She's All That
by chicgeekitten
Summary: Sam Evans, has everything he could possibly ask for. He's wealthy, he's smart, he's handsome, all the girls want him, and he's insanely popular. Too bad his girlfriend doesn't seem to care! It's okay though because Sam thinks she's replaceable and can turn anyone into a prom Queen. In comes Mercedes Jones and altho Sam tries to change her, its her that changes everything for Sam.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: Hey guys! This is my very first collab fic with choosethebetterpoison on tumblr. (writer of flash forward and miracle baby) Leave us some love! If we get enough reviews, we plan on continuing this! We are very excited to be working together! This is based on the movie "She's all that". **_

_**Disclaimer: We do not own Glee or any of its characters. **_

Spring Break—every student's favorite week during the second school semester, and for Sam Evans it was no different. He spent the week away from Lima and enjoyed the brief getaway. The only thing that would have made it better was if his girlfriend, Quinn Fabray had returned at least one of his calls or text him more than 'goodnight' in the evenings. He knew she was going to have plans over Spring Break also, but it didn't cross his mind that she was going to blow him off for seven days. As much as he tried not to let it get to him, come Monday morning, his eyes were excessively vigilant for her perfectly groomed blonde head.

On his quest to find her, a number of female peers cast sultry looks at him and greeted him 'hello'. It wasn't unusual for Sam; he considered himself to be a decent-looking guy, but his incessant participation in sports coupled with his dad's accumulated wealth launched him into the 1 percent of McKinley—the crème de la crop. Politely, he nodded and smirked back with a low, "Hey," leaving his lips in the process. He slipped his hands into the pockets of his red and beige Letterman's jacket while only vaguely aware of the morning announcements that boomed overhead throughout the quad.

"Goooooooodddd Morning! What's pizzity poppin'? What's happening, Titans? Coach Sue is out on maternity leave, dropping a frontal deuce if you know what I mean and this is your master of the mic, the inventor of all things swag, the newly single, ready to mingle Artie A. here with the morning announcements. First up, the hella fioonnee Coach Roz wants all you guppies to know practice is canceled today. Next, Chord loves Amber: Will you be mine? Meet me at the bleachers! How romantic! What kinda name is Chord? Damn! Last but definitely not least, on anyone's list, summer vacation's two months away which means one thing and one thing only: Party at my house suckas! Nah! On the real, it's time to be looking forward to graduation. Yeah I'm talking to you, seniors. Let the countdown begin!"

As he trekked up a series of steps, his narrowed focus on finding Quinn momentarily absolved. He grinned at the sight of his two best friends, Finn Hudson and Mike Chang Jr., about to head inside one of the main buildings.

"Finn! Mike! My Brothas from another motha!" He called out to them.

Both fellow jocks turned their heads and grinned at him; it was like the opening scene in _Grease_, and Sam was definitely Danny Zuko.

"Sam! What's up, my man—how was Spring Break?" asked Finn as the two friends clasped a hand and drew the other in for a one-armed hug.

"It was cool, bro. Y'know—went up to Canada with the parents. Water skiing with my little bro and sis. What about you guys?" he asked, pulling back to give Mike the same greeting.

The three walked in their own cluster inside the nearest main building, exchanging Spring Break stories until Sam completely shifted gears. It was a delayed reaction but the morning announcements had just hit him, so he asked, "You guys realize we're looking at 2 more months of high school? I mean…two more months and we're done! It's kind of bittersweet."

Finn chuckled once, giving his friend a dubious look, "Uh. Yeah, no duh, dude. It's not coming' fast enough! I can't wait till I'm out of this hell hole!"

"No, but…I mean this is it. No more "Brothas from anotha motha handshakes!"

Mike clapped a hand to his shoulder, grinning, "Yeah, we get it. No more Sue's Corner in the morning."

"No more Coach Bieste making us do a thousand burpees every time we're late to practice. No more smelly gym lockers, no more detention with Figgins, no more sucking up to Scheuster, and best of all? No more hearing the glee club make our ears bleed at assemblies!"

Mike and Finn cast agreeing nods and chuckles at one another before high-fiving. Sam shook his head in amusement; sure his friends were right but it wasn't what he was thinking about. Not with college on the brain and a girlfriend who had been M.I.A. for the past week…

"Well you best make room. My family's from Lima Heights Adjacent. I'll say it again—_Lima Heights Adjacent_. And I always get my way! Do you what happened to the last person that didn't do what I asked? No? Well, neither do I! Daddy made one his calls and boom! Just like that, guy disappeared. Never heard from him again. Papi loves his little girl and you better not mess up because he'll go all Freddie Krueger on your behinds if you don't make room for my party!"

Finn, Mike and Sam all turned to hear the boisterous spitfire, Santana Lopez storming down the hallway, projecting her angst to an unknown recipient. Her Cheerios skirt swished with each irate step she took; she hung up her phone as she neared the group of men and barely gave them a fleeting glance.

"Hey to you too, Santana," spoke Finn with a smirk.

"Not now, Beanstalk. I'm busy," she spat back.

Finn caught up to her in two short strides and slipped his arm around her shoulder; an arm that she quickly shrugged off. He continued to smirk down at her while he said, "But I heard you mention a party. It's your lucky day, I happen to be free on…well, what party and when should I be there?"

"My grad party at Breadstix and when pigs fly out my ass, Hudson—you're not invited."

Finn pressed both hands over his heart, feigning an ache, "Aw don't be mean, Satan. You know you'll miss me if I'm not there. I'm the life of the party!"

Sam and Mike were trailing down the hall behind the two but Sam jogged up to Santana's other side, "Hey Santana. You look nice; you haven't seen Quinn, have you?"

"Flattery will get you nowhere. Sorry Trouty, haven't seen Barbie, try her locker or something," was all she said before veering off into the girls' bathroom.

Sam's shoulder's fell while a glint of irritation flashed across his face. _Where was his girlfriend?_

"_Ladies! Bow chicka bow bow! _" cheered Mike.

Sam and Finn's heads turned to see two more of Quinn's posse approaching—fellow Cheerio, Brittany S. Pierce and Mike's girlfriend, Tina Cohen-Chang. Mike sidled up to Tina with his arm slipping around her waist while Sam approached Brittany.

"Brittany, have you seen Quinn at all today?"

"No," she quickly replied in her usual airy tone. "Wait…" Sam looked up, hopeful for an answer. "No, nevermind that was Lord Tubbington in a blonde wig."

Sam's brows furrowed. "Seriously? You guys are like…her best friends, how have you not seen her yet?"

With absolute seriousness, Brittany replied, "Quinn told me to tell you that we don't know where she is if you came asking and then she gave me a grape jolly rancher. It turns my tongue purple. Wanna See?" Brittany began to stick her tongue out when Tina rolled he eyes and glared at her friend.

"Brittany!" Tina hissed, elbowing the petite blonde and shaking her head trying her hardest to reprimand Brittany without Sam noticing.

Sam squinted a glare at both girls, "Okay, what's going o—."

Before he could complete his thought, the sound of his girlfriend's voice carried over the droning voices that filled the busy halls. Sam turned his agitated expression to the left, just as Quinn rounded the corner with her phone to her ear. Like Brittany and Santana, she was sporting her Cheerios uniform today while her shiny blonde ponytail flounced from shoulder to shoulder with each step she took. Heads turned in the hallway and a few people cast timid smiles at them but she hadn't acknowledges a single one.

"I know, Daddy but this is my senior year—I'm not going to get another chance like this and I know it's the perfect dress. Please daddy, I'm your princess. You know you can't say no to me. Please? Pretty please with a cherry on top?" she softly begged and even pouted as if her father could see he through the phone.

"Hey Quinn," Sam spoke sternly but she walked right past as if he wasn't standing there. Her eye did manage to catch her friends however as she threw a quick smirk at them.

"Thank you, Daddy…okay, I love you too. Yep. Buh-bye."

Sam had followed her and as she got off the phone, she abruptly turned and faced him. He opened his mouth to try and talk to her again but she beat him to speaking.

"Sam? Listen, this…? Us, just isn't working for me anymore. I've moved on." She said in the most patronizing tone Sam had heard since he was in little league. But once he got past her condescending tone, her words sunk in, and he gave her a double-take.

"Come again?" he asked, turning his head slightly.

Quinn sighed and rolled her eyes, making haste towards exasperation. She grabbed his wrist and started to lead him out of the hall and back out to the quad where they found a bench to sit down and talk.

Neither of them were attentive to the fact that their friends had tagged along but they maintained distance that made it appear as though they were giving the two their privacy.

"So what exactly happened last week? You blow me off, come back and just tell me it's over?"

"Oh, Sammy—that's sweet that you think we were gonna go the distance but…I mean really, don't act like you didn't see it coming, we're just…we're two different people. You know?" she said—her voice dripping with more condescension.

"_What_ happened, Quinn?" he demanded.

Quinn rolled her eyes and proceeded to give Sam the story of her week in Miami with Tina and Brittany. Thanks to Russell Fabray's connections, the three were granted access to a Spring Break celebration and danced with "Miami's hottest", poolside. One wrong step nearly sent Quinn head first into the pool, with the possibility of ruining her freshly re-done highlights. By the grace of God she was saved by the convenient broad shoulders of one acclaimed D-List actor. One thing led to another, and by the end of the week they were an item.

"_Cooper Anderson?_" Sam couldn't believe that that's who she dumped him for.

Quinn's face brightened up as she gushed, "He's just finished shooting some commercials for the Freed Credit Report company. He's so cool but like a retro cool and he even promised me a guest spot in his next gig! You can't expect me to just give that up, that would be very selfish, Sammy!"

Sam didn't say anything back but his silence spoke plenty of volumes. He clenched his jaw tightly and turned his head away from her but her perfectly manicured fingers came up to either side of his face, turning it to make him look at her again. "Listen, Sammy…we can still go to prom together. You and I are a shoe-in for prom king and queen."

She stood up, pecked his forehead and flounced away without a backwards glance.

Sam watched her go for a few seconds, and then let an aggravated sigh leave his lips.

"Retro-cool? YEAH! BEACAUSE HE'S LIKE TWICE YOUR AGE!" Sam shouted after Quinn feeling like the biggest fool.

He snatched up his backpack and strode away in the opposite direction, ignoring the hustling steps of Finn and Mike.

"That was a good one man." Finn shrugged looking over to Mike, begging him to help him out.

"Yeah, totally. You got her where it hurt!" Mike added, also shrugging at Finn and whispering: "That's all I've got."

"Shut up guys." Sam rushed down the halls of his high school, not caring the looks he was already getting. Yep, word got around fast in McKinley. Sam tried his best not to pay attention to the onlookers and didn't even realize he had knocked down a set of books a student was carrying.

"Hey! No Consideration! Can't even walk through the halls of my high school safely! Oh sure! Go ahead! It's okay! I'm not hurt! Nope! I'm fine! No need to help me with my books!" Mercedes Jones sighed, watching the three boys rush past the rest of the student body. She shook her head. "Dumb jocks." Mercedes knelt and started picking up her books thinking she'd rather be chained to her bed post being forced to watch episodes of Barney the purple dinosaur than to ever be friends with Sam Evans.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: We don't own glee or it's characters, if we did, Season 4 would be samcedes, all day, every day! ::evil laughter:: Excellent! **

**A/N: Thank you so much for all the amazing comments! You guys are awesome! We love working together and we are so excited about this fic! Stick around because it gets better and better! ;) **

Mercedes sat in the passenger's seat of her dad's '99 Camry, watching him weave in and out of traffic, holding on to dear life. Her dad was hard-working but a struggling man; always in a hurry, with a mortgage, an assistant's shift at two different dental offices, and seemingly out of touch with his children's lives. His car came to an obnoxious screeching halt in front of McKinley, causing a few students' heads to turn and laugh as Mercedes and her brother got out.

"I warned Figgins about that speed bump! I swear if Hummel doesn't win this election, we're all screwed! Every single one of us! The budget for the department of education is so bad yet the Cheerios have designer uniforms! DESIGNER! And they can't fix a darn speed bump! My poor kid has to go to glee club in the basement and the poor teacher has to pay for music sheets out of his own pocket! Where's the justice?"

Mercedes stood outside the passenger door and shrugged. "Don't know dad. How did you know all that stuff anyway?"

"Well, your dad is going to get more involved in your life. I want what's best for you. I know since your mom—"

"Dad, not here. Please." Mercedes said softly.

"Sorry sweetheart. I'm just worried. Look at you. You're beautiful, growing, smart, a mind of your own and I'm just watching you do all these things…alone. That's not what dads do. That goes for you too Wade!" Mr. Jones turned around to look at his son. "We're going fishing this weekend!"

"I hate fishing, dad." Wade muttered.

"Wade!" Mercedes made a sign as if she was telling Wade to "cut it out"

"Well, that's alright. We'll spend more time at home. Mercedes? Do you have your lady items?"

"DAD!" Mercedes shook her head. "Plleaase."

"Sorry, I'm still learning how to do this alone. Okay, Wade you're free from my clutches!" Their father chuckled.

"Come on, Wade—we're gonna be late," Mercedes muttered in a matronly tone.

"Have a good day you two," called their father."Learn something new!"

A few people snickered as their dad's car squealed away; once they were a few steps in the main building, her brother asked, "He's never gonna get that fixed, is he?"

Mercedes shook her head. **"**Probably not but that doesn't mean you have to give him attitude. This is hard for him too. Losing mom has made him a little crazy but he's still our dad. Got it**? **Anyway, I'm going by the choir room to see if I can catch Mr. Schue before Glee club later. You comin'?"

"Yes, 'Cede," spoke Wade, "Actually, I have to make go to my locker first. But I'll see you at glee."

Her chubby, baby-faced little brother beamed a smile at her before heading off down the hall. As Mercedes trekked towards the choir room, she split her attention between weaving through her classmates stationary forms and listening to the morning announcements. Her lips pursed with little amusement at the class MC's spin on the announcement, and she couldn't help rolling her eyes when he broadcasted someone's love confession over the P.A. system.

"Chord? What kind of a name is Chord?" She said to herself before Artie Abrams repeated the same thing**.** "Valentine's Day is passed, Artie," she mumbled to herself.

His final announcement in regard to graduation made her thoughts jump to the acceptance letters sitting on her dresser back at home. She had been accepted to her top two choices, UCLA and San Francisco State University, as well as Ohio State—her back-up choice in case the other two rejected her. At first she was excited to receive acceptance from UCLA and SF State, but as the reminder of graduation being around the corner chimed in her ears, she found herself doubting whether or not she should follow through with attending one of the two schools. For one, there was the issue of money. Her dad did his best to take care of them financially, but both universities were out of state, which meant the cost would be hefty and scholarships could only do so much, should she receive any. The other issue she struggled with was that leaving Lima for California meant that she would be leaving her father and brother to fend for themselves. Her dreams were elsewhere but it made her heart ache to think about how much she would be worrying over them, were she to leave. Mr. Schue, her glee teacher had told her about a song writing competition in which the grand prize was a full ride to any school. He even emailed her the guidelines. The email sat in her inbox, unread for the whole summer. The deadline was coming up and Mercedes wasn't sure anymore if she was putting it off because she didn't have any inspiration or because she couldn't live with the idea of leaving her family.

The thoughts bogged down her mind for the remainder of her trip to the choir room—and then some, but she did her best to push them aside once she saw her teacher, Mr. Schuester. With two raps on the room's open door, she caught his attention.

"Mercedes! Hey, what can I do for you?"

"Hi Mr. Schue," she replied. "I was just wondering if I could have some more sheet music? I promise I'll pay you back soon. I get paid on Friday and—"

"It's okay, Mercedes. Take as much as you need."

She nodded, "Thanks Mr. Schue."

He nodded back and watched her for a moment as she strode into the room and thumbed a small stack from his larger stack of blank sheet music.

"How's the song writing going?"

She glanced back at her teacher with an expressionless gaze, "It's…going."

Mr. Schue's optimistic gaze faltered with her less-than-enthusiastic response. He could tell she was avoiding the "big talk" but he wasn't about to bring it up. He'd give her another week. Then, it's crunch time. The scholarship submission is due in three weeks and he was going to get her to enter. He bobbed his head with a couple more nods and then turned his attention back to the papers he had scattered on the piano top. "See you in glee club, Mercedes."

Mercedes didn't say anything aloud but she figured it was best to just go before things grew even more awkward between her and her teacher. She had just enough time to swing by her locker and switch out her necessary books when a familiar, slightly husky voice asked from behind, "Is it any longer?"

Had this been any other guy, she would have been extremely confused and probably instantly repulsed at whatever they were _really_ asking her about. But she knew better and as she pulled her locker door open, her head turned to look up at her best friend's bowed head. "Mm…not since you came by my house yesterday—nope."

With a sigh, he raised his head so that she could actually see his face. "Damn. I was really hoping to have my mohawk back by prom."

Mercedes shook her head at him and turned back to her locker, "Puck why is having a mohawk by prom so important to you?"

He shrugged and spoke in a tone that made it sound like the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. "'Cause it's badass! Mohawks are total confidence boosters—who do you know had a mohawk and got treated like a punk? I want to be like Heroine Bob from SLC punk! You know? A freakin' nerdy bad ass that knows all about chemistry and shit but can beat the living crap out of you!"

As she pulled her history and government books out of her locker, she replied**, "**Well, I guess a mohawk does give off a certain presence**…**But I also don't know anyone with a mohawk to begin with, so…"

"So by prom—or maybe graduation—Noah Puckerman's gonna have his 'hawk." Puck started strutting in place.

Mercedes giggled softly at him. "If you say so, Puck." So far, it looked like he had a landing strip going down the middle of his head.

"I do. Anyway, I gotta run. Catch you later, 'Cede. Oh! My dad wants to know if you can take a double shift today?" Puck started walking backwards signing the symbol for money. Mercedes laughed at his antics and shook her head.

"This wouldn't have to do with the confession I made to you about owing Mr. Schue, would it?" Mercedes replied in a stern tone.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, gawgeous!"

"Puck! I swear! You better not be convincing Mr. Puckerman to give me more shifts!" Mercedes yelled down the hall as Puck got farther away.

"I can't hear you! I'll see you at Breadstix!"

He strutted away without another word, and Mercedes stood in in front of her locker shaking her head. She loved her best friend but he had a big mouth. Coincidentally, her boss happened to be Puck's dad—the owner of Breadstix. Ever since Mercedes started telling Puck about her struggles, Mr. Puckerman had been acting strange; giving her more shifts, making her manager, giving her a raise, and letting her take food home. She made a mental note to question her best friends later.

Mercedes let her gaze linger over the interior of her locker. She had pictures of singers she idolized—Whitney Houston, Mariah Carey, Michael Jackson, Aretha Franklin, Adele and Beyoncé, to be specific—taped to the inner walls of her space. On the door hung a copy of Maya Angelou's "Phenomenal Woman" and below that was a small locker mirror. She gazed at herself for a moment: round cheeks, button nose with a stud piercing; no make-up and a head full of dark, un-kept curls surrounding a pair of black rimmed, vintage coach glasses with a frame that belonged to her mother. With a soft sigh, she closed the locker door and turned to go to her first class, but found herself shoved past with her books and sheet music falling unexpectedly out her hands.

She stood stunned for only a second and then crouched down to gather her things, all the while glowering at the backs of ever-popular Sam Evans and his two jock cronies. Not once had she seen a problem in voicing how utterly despicable she thought he was, and it only made it worse that every other girl at the school would drown in their drool over him. And sure, she would be the first to tell you that looks weren't everything but Sam made it too easy for her not to label him a snotty jock; he was good-looking, active in school, had a rich family, and he had the school's queen bee for his girlfriend. Yep, Sam Evans had everything—_including an asshole complex_, thought Mercedes.

Sam pulled up in his Toyota Tundra at the Evans estate. His father was a businessman and had been a wise investor in various franchise companies all over the nation. And his mother was a well-respected fashion designer; for that, Sam and his younger twin siblings were living comfortably in the Lima suburbs. His two siblings were very similar yet extremely different. Sometimes, he couldn't figure out who had the worst attitude, but the three of them managed to get along well. Sam was like a father figure to them, since their own father was always away on business trips and only asked for one thing when he was home: "How are those grades coming along?"

With baseball season wrapping up and one of his final swim practices canceled, he had come home early, only to find his sister sitting on one of the living room couches with Fuse T.V. on while she practiced micro braiding on a mannequin head. His brother was bobbing is head to the music, criticizing his sister's braiding techniques.

"No, fool! That's not how you do it!" He wheeled over to his sister and unbraided the braid she was working on.

"Artie! What the hell?" the girl flicked Artie's forhead.

"Hey, Twerps," Sam called affectionately.

"Hey," they replied back with little attentiveness to him.

"How's school?"

His sister shrugged, blowing some strands of hair out of her face, "If by 'How's school?' you mean 'How was your return to Crawford Country Day—the school that makes girls like me wanna claw their eyes out'? Then fine. "

"Oookaay…Artie? How about you?"

"Well, let's see, _you_ would know since we got to the same school... Oh wait, hold up, you don't even acknowledge me." Artie rolled his eyes and his sister smirked.

"Artie, you're a sophomore and I'm a senior. McKinley's a big school!" Sam tried his best to justify his reasons for sometimes, purposely, ignoring his brother. He knew he shouldn't but for a while, Artie didn't seem to mind. He would do the same. Very few people knew they were related and they _both _seemed to be okay with that arrangement.

"Whatever how was school for you, big brotha?" Artie wheeled himself over to Sam, already knowing his response. News travelled around fast.

"Eh." Sam replied, hoping that would be the end of the conversation.

"Why 'eh'? You and Quinn break-up or something?"

Sam stopped mid-stride when he had begun to walk away after he heard the words come out of his sister's mouth. He glared at Artie and then looked at her. "H—how'd you know that, Lauren?"

Artie held his hands up in surrender. "Don't look at me!"

Their sister shrugged "I just took a guess. Who knew I'd be right?" When Sam didn't say anything back she went on to ask, "So what happened?"

As though he was waiting for the opportunity to talk to someone about it, he hastened into the living room, wheeled his brother over and sat across from Lauren. "Okay so, we come back from Spring Break, and…you know how I'd been trying to reach her while we were in Canada, right?"

Lauren nodded, Artie listened, and Sam went on, giving them a full repeat of the conversation he and Quinn had in the quad earlier that day.

"Well…" she said after he finished and gave her the chance to speak again. "Good riddance, I guess, right? I mean she wasn't exactly in the running for best girlfriend on Earth, was she?"

"And this is why you're my favorite sister! Praise!" Artie held his hand up.

Sam's settled lips twitched to one side of his face; he had the natural reflex to defend Quinn, but he caught himself before any word or sound could leave his mouth. And a few seconds later, he heard two car doors close.

"Crap—mom and dad are back." Lauren leaned forward, snatched up one of the remotes and flipped the program from "The Green Day Take-over" to a re-run of _Seventh Heaven_. In no time, she'd gathered up her things and swiftly fled the room, making her way to the stairs. "If they ask, I'm studying."

Sam watched her go and cast a salute at her; he turned to face his brother. "Are you sticking around for the Spanish inquisition?"

Artie nodded yes, just as the front doors opened.

"Lauren? Artie? Sam? We're home!" called Mr. Evans.

Sam stood up; he understood completely why his sister made such a fast leave but he loved his brother for staying. It had less to do with their mother in his case—she tended to be more interested in Lauren's hobbies, friendships, and future choices**. **She was also interested in Artie's health. She made sure he went to every Dr.'s appointment. She blames herself for the skiing accident that left him paralyzed. Mr. Evans, on the other hand, displayed a blatant interest in all of those things when it came to Sam.

"Ah, Samuel," his father said in a majestic tone. "How was school?"

"Hello to you too dad" Artie said bitterly.

"Hello son. How was school?" His father moved his concentration from Sam momentarily and looked over to his younger son.

Artie shrugged. "Eh!" He wheeled himself over to the kitchen and decided that was enough one-on-one with his dad for the day.

Sam fought the urge to roll his eyes and yell at his dad for not asking Artie about his new gig with the school's radio.

"Hmph." His father adjusted himself and looked over to Sam. He started to re-ask the question but Sam beat him to it.

"Fine. School was fine."

"Good, good. Any word yet from any of the universities?"

Sam shook his head, "Nope. Not yet."

"Odd," spoke his mother, "You would think they would have told you something by now."

"I know," Sam replied. "They must have gotten a lot of applications this year or something."

His dad nodded with a gradual agreement. "Maybe I oughta give the dean of admissions at UCLA a call—"

"No!" Sam quickly exclaimed, earning him two suspicious and confused glances from his parents.

"It…it's just that I don't wanna bug them over it. And hey—I still have time to get my letter."

Mr. Evans mulled it over for a few seconds, and when his confused expression dissolved, he stepped up to Sam and clapped a hand on his shoulder, "Don't worry, son. One way or another—you're getting into that school."

Sam didn't latch on to his dad's enthusiasm as he said, "Sure, Dad."

By a small amount of saving grace, Mr. Evans' phone buzzed a call, giving Sam the perfect opportunity to slip off to his own bedroom and relax. He collapsed on his bed, reaching up to the lip at the top of this headboard where a long narrow box sat. After placing the box on his chest, he opened it and pulled out several envelopes with tri-folded papers surrounding them. Dartmouth, UCLA, Columbia, Stanford, MIT, Princeton, and UC San Diego all had accepted him to their schools—even as an undecided major. For the billionth time, he glanced through each one, reading how each of them started.

"_Congratulations Mr. Evans!"_

"_Welcome to Dartmouth Mr. Evans!"_

"_Samuel Evans, The University of California San Diego is pleased to inform you…"_

"_Dear Mr. Evans, Columbia University welcomes you…"_

"_Congratulations and welcome to Stanford University's class of 2016!"_

"_Samuel Evans, The University of California Los Angeles is pleased to inform you…"_

"_Princeton congratulates you on your admission for the fall 2012 semester…"_

He sighed and stuffed the letters back into his box, unsure as to why he was adding to his quota of misery for the day. The reminder of a rapidly approaching grad date; Quinn dumping and humiliating him—though he bitterly admitted to having a hand in that with yelling at her—and now his unanswered acceptance letters were more than he wanted to deal with for one day. Tomorrow, he hoped, would be a better day.

"Gooooooooooooooddddd morning!What's happenin' Titans? Yours truly here, keeping the A.M. announcements brief today. First off, my condolences to a certain heartbroke kid," spoke Artie.

Sam was walking in between Mike and Finn as the morning announcements sounded overhead. Mike turned a wary glance at Sam and Sam rolled his eyes at what he was hearing. His own flesh and blood. He wouldn't.

"Don't worry dude—it's probably not even you," Mike said.

"Yo, keep your head up, Sam," Artie said with impeccable timing. **"**She didn't deserve ya! As a matter of fact, there are plenty of fish in the sea of beauties! Just look around you my man, you might find a pleasant surprise! And speaking of beauties, it looks like Firecracker Fabray's gonna be running one fierce campaign for prom queen. Well, that's probably because no one else seems to be running against her! Am I reading this right? Oh come on girls, you know you got what it takes! I believe in secret nominations so if you think your lady friend is missing a certain tiara on her dresser, I suggest you stop by the radio station and drop in a nom or two! And while you're at it, maybe you can leave me their numba, you know what I'm sayin'?Look out, ladies! 6 More weeks 'til the big night. Word has it the theme's gonna be _pre_historic!"

Sam's shoulders slumped and his teeth ground from having his breakup broadcasted**. **He knew his brother meant well but this is not something he wanted to deal with. If everyone didn't already know yesterday, there was guaranteed to be more talk about it today. His irritation flared up for a moment and then he shook his head, "You know what? Who cares?—Quinn Fabray thinks she's all that but she's_ completely_ replaceable! I could get with any girl at this school and turn them into prom queen like that!" He snapped his finger at the end of his boastful rant.

Finn cocked a mischievous brow, "…Is that a bet, bro?"

Sam's confidence faltered for one second but he recovered in no time and said, "Yeah, dude! Why, you don't think I could?"

"Hold up!" said Mike, smacking his hand on Sam's chest to halt him. He stepped in front of his blond buddy to cross over to Finn. "Finn, my man, don't take advantage of this dude while he's down. He's a delicate flower. Can't you see? Look at those puppy dog eyes. Sam? Show him your puppy dog eyes!" Sam stood there, motionless and Mike shook his head. "See? 's just wrong."

Finn stared at Mike—a mix of disbelief and amusement—and then took a light swing at Mike's crotch, "Yeah call me when your balls return, Chang Banger." He stepped away from Mike and turned a devilish grin back on Sam. **"**I know Sam. And if there is one thing he likes more than dating Cheerios, it's winning bets. So how 'bout it, dude? For ol' time's sake. One last hoorah before you ship yourself off to some Ivy League and become president or some shit. I pick out the lucky gal, and you have 6 weeks to turn her into prom queen."

Sam stared at Finn's outstretched hand, letting a moment of doubt cross him for a moment. But his upset over his recent break-up and Finn's tempted bet baited him. He clasped hands and said, "You're on."

"Yesss!" celebrated Finn. He rubbed his hands together, "Alright you heard Artie—the sea is alive and well with some beauties. Let's go fishing, boys!"

Mike shook his head, still holding his crotch as he trailed after his two eager, idiotic friends.

Finn's eyes were sweeping over the quad; he let out a snicker, "Man this is gonna be good."

Sam was following his friend's swiveling head with a faint smirk. They talked out the details of the bet a little more until Sam interrupted. He nodded to one girl whose back was to them and joked, "How about her? She looks promising…"

The girl was dancing by herself—knees bent, butt popping out repeatedly.

Finn snorted, "Looks like she's trying to out-do that chick in the Sun Drops commercials. Nah—too easy, Sammy-poo."

Sam chuckled and Mike shook his head as they continued on. They passed by a patch of grass where two girls were sitting across from one another, clad entirely in black with a lit incense burning in between them. They were both heavily made up and were chanting something that didn't sound remotely close to English.

"Hmm…what about one of them?" Finn wondered aloud. "Hey, it could be your lucky day. Those chicks might be able to get some love potion together and in 6 weeks, you'll be walking down the aisle to the sounds of Slayer."

Sam's brows shot up, "Uh…wait what about Sun Drops? She wasn't so bad!"

His brunette buddy cracked up and they moved on. It suddenly seemed like the female population at the school had gone up; there were so many girls he hadn't looked at or noticed before…

"Hell to the no—are you serious?"

He, Finn and Mike's heads turned in unison to the left and saw the loudly-dressed and frequently blunt Mercedes Jones on her hands in knees in front of a mess of books, notebooks and papers. Her eyes were glaring harshly up at one of the Titan's outfielders. Sam shook his head pitifully at her but he immediately froze when Finn's voice boomed out like a sports announcer.

"Ooo la la, divine Mercy! Gentlemen, we have a winner!"

Eyes bugged, Sam turned his head to Finn. "Wh—…_Mercedes Jones_? Nooo, no, no, no, n-no, no, no! Are you kidding me?"

Finn seemed to get some sick satisfaction from his horrified reaction.

"Come on, man! Crazy spontaneous dancers, I can handle—just look at how much I tolerate Mike! Tiny tits, and even a little funky breath, I can handle but Mercedes Jones? The hippie glee geek feminazi?" He looked back desperately at his other friend, "Help me out here, Mike!"

Mike had a fist over his smiling mouth, "Look, this is between you two…" He lost composure and doubled forward in obvious hysterics—more so than Finn.

"Finn!" Sam begged.

"Hey man!" replied Finn. "A bet's a bet, and prom's 6 weeks away, bro. If you're gonna win, I'd say you got your work cut out for you! I mean, she isn't so bad but those glasses have to go, maybe a change in wardrobe. Go on, I can't help with you with everything!" He retreated to Mike's side to join him in snickering while Sam's chest puffed and fell in a deep sigh.

Steeling himself, Sam glared at Mercedes as though she were a puzzle he was trying to solve. He strode over to where she was gathering up her things and crouched down to return her thick government book. His helping gesture quickly caught her eye and he leaned away slightly when she started glaring at him. Her glasses weren't so bad. There was vintage, chic look to them.

"Uh…hi, Mercedes."

He saw her lips pinch together and after accepting her book, she stood straight up and stalked away without a word. Sam's brows slouched together but his expression smoothed out to a blank slate as the sounds of his friend's guffaws hit his ears again. He turned around and saw Mike holding his knees for support while Finn shot two thumbs up at him.

Sam shook his head; his work was definitely cut out for him but he wasn't about to lose this bet. He vaguely remembered seeing Mercedes and her brother hanging out near the parking lot after school yesterday, so he wondered if that might be a good guess as to where to find her later on. And sure enough, he had been correct. He was headed to the student parking lot and saw Mercedes and her little brother seated side-by-side on a bench. Mercedes' head was bent over a paper and when Sam approached, he heard her little brother talking about sequins and chiffon while Mercedes hummed and wrote. Sam's brows furrowed but he pushed that curiosity aside and cleared his throat, standing directly behind the curvaceous girl.

"Um…hi Mercedes. That's a nice song. Is it new?Listen, I was just wondering if—"

"Dad's here," Mercedes spoke, confusing Sam. But her words became clear as she stood up and hustled her brother towards a screeching Camry.

"—you wanted to blow me off and make me look stupid," finished Sam in a low mumble. A few people snickered around him; again he found himself shaking his head, but he brushed off the brief embarrassment and walked away, pulling his cell phone out. He scrolled through an extensive list of contacts until he found the one he was looking for and hit 'call'. As he strode to his Tundra, he got an answer.

"Hey, Kurt are you still on campus?...No, it's fine—you can help me out over the phone. You know how I helped spare you a dumpster drop by the hockey team before Spring Break and you said you owed me one?...Well I know how you can repay me…" Sam smirked, reaching for the driver's door handle to his truck, "I need you to tell me everything you know about Mercedes Jones."


	3. Chapter 3

_**Disclaimer: As always, we're still two broke girls so we don't own Glee or its characters. One day we will own the world and maybe then we won't have to type this disclaimer in the beginning. In the meantime, we can live vicariously through fanfiction! **_

_**A/N: Bri and I are so thankful for all awesome feedback we have been getting! So this is ittt! Sam is on the prowl and Mercedes isn't having any of it! Oh snap! Read on playas! (gina, stop that, stop that right now.) **_

_He'd just finished up with the Titans' last baseball practice, and their final game was a day away—a victory they all felt confident in. Whether it was the excitement of Spring Break or their near-perfect winning streak this season, they weren't sure; perhaps it was both, but Sam had an extra pep in his step as heleft the locker room and cut across the quad to the student parking lot. On top of that, it worked out well for him that Coach Roz and Coach Bieste managed to work out a compromise that allowed him to swim and play baseball for the spring. He had much to look forward to by the end of the school year—graduation, grad parties, earning two more pins for his Letterman's jacket, and a long summer vacation with his girlfriend._

_His Tundra came into view, and at the moment he had a one-track mind, focused only on getting home and showering in preparation of his movie date with Quinn. But his attention was suddenly derailed by a familiar voice._

"_Bottoms up, Gaylord Hummel," said one snarky guy, triggering dark chuckles from three others._

"_Look if you're gonna ruin my outfit, again, at least let me spare my Ralph Lauren shoulder bag...its vintage!"_

_Sam halted for a moment, narrowing his eyes at said bag, and then its owner. Though McKinley was a decent-sized school, it wasn't hard for Sam to know that Kurt had made himself pretty well-known as one of the few openly gay students at the school. Sam had flanked a few of his friends during a few slushie tosses and dumpster drops, but it had gotten old for Sam, fast so he usually made up some excuse to be elsewhere whenever Finn, Mike or any of the other guys were planning their pranks. Once upon a time they were funny to Sam, but after walking past the football team members dumpster dropping his brother during the first week of school that year, the humor died for Sam. And worse, he hadn't helped Artie out until after the team mates had gone. He remembered Artie not speaking to him for almost two weeks solid after that—the longest they had ever gone their whole lives without speaking to one another._

_And here he was, about to witness another dumpster drop for a kid whose only reason for being targeted was because he liked boys and fashion. Sam knew he was risking getting flack from the hockey team for interfering with their drop but he didn't care; images of his brother being taken out of his wheelchair and helplessly thrown in flashed violently in his mind. _

"_Hey! I heard stupid was having a sale, why don't ya'll just indulge in a spree?" barked Sam._

_The three guys—all of whom had at least one of Kurt's limbs—suspended him off the ground while they and their mullet-headed captain looked to Sam. Sam recognized Rick Nelson right away._

"_What's up, Evans? Looks like Fabray's been helping you out with the do! Let me guess? Lemon Juice?" he replied as if they were old pals; something that couldn't be further from the truth._

_Sam ignored his little comment as the other boys covered their smirks._

"_Put him down, Sam replied, stepping up to the hockey players._

_Rick scoffed, "Why? Gaylord knows the drill. He's BFF's with this here dumpster. Why would you ruin a reunion?"_

"_I don't care. Put him down or I'll make you."_

_There wasn't a hint of fear in Sam's voice when he made his threat; he didn't care that two of them were significantly bigger than he was, or the plain fact that he was outnumbered by them._

_Rick laughed and the other three echoed his chuckles darkly. "Are you his bodyguard now, Fish Boy? Seems a little romantic!"_

"_Maybe," Sam countered, stepping right up to Rick. Between the two, Sam had about four inches of height on him and knew he'd have no problem taking Rick if it came down to it. Rick was infamous for being all bark and no bite, while Sam had a slight reputation for grappling in heated situations._

_Rick snapped his fingers and pointed to the ground. His crew put Kurt down and followed him back into the school, mumbling more insults that Sam couldn't hear._

"_You okay, dude?" asked Sam._

_Kurt was staring at him, startled as he brushed off the sleeves of his blazer, "I—I'm fine. Thanks."_

_Sam wasn't completely surprised or confused that Kurt looked so shocked at him. HE pursed his lips for a moment and then nodded. "Good. I, uh…well…later."_

"_Wait!" Kurt quickly replied as Sam turned to continue on. When he looked back to Kurt, the slender brunette was smiling at him, "I owe you for that. I mean I know it couldn't have been easy going up to those guys—four on one's not exactly a fair fight."_

_Sam shrugged, "We didn't fight though."_

"_I know but it was still pretty heroic if you ask me. People aren't really lining up to save my life around here…look if you end up needing homework help or like…a personal fashion consultant for a week—I'm your guy. Oh and if you really want a golden tone, they sell a lemon spray that could really help."_

_Sam's brows arched, "Uh…okay…I'll let you know."_

"_Great!" Kurt replied quickly, and then reached inside his shoulder bag._

_Sam watched with confusion, wondering what he'd gotten himself into. But after seeing Kurt scribble across a piece of notebook paper and thrusting it to him, Sam understood._

"_Here. I'm serious, you have no idea how much I owe you. Anyway, I gotta get going. Glee club's got an extra practice today for Regionals and I've got to help Mercedes with costumes, and if I leave her high and dry she's gonna kill me. I don't know if you know her or not—powerhouse singing skills, crazy sense of fashion, goddess of McKinley—yeah that Mercedes Jones."_

_Sam wasn't sure what Kurt was responding to, since he hadn't spoken a word; his brows furrowed and though he knew exactly who Kurt was talking about, he really just wanted to get going._

"_So we've gotta get these costumes finished up before tomorrow or else our club's gonna look as tacky as a three-ring circus, aaaand…you…don't…really care about any of this, sooo I'll be shutting up now." Kurt chuckled shortly and nervously, "Thanks again, Sam Evans," and without another word, he turned on his heels and headed back towards the school, leaving Sam a little dumbstruck._

Sam thought vaguely about this memory as he pulled up to Breadstix and parked. He reached in his pocket and took out the piece of paper with his own chicken scratch on it. From what Kurt told him, all he learned about Mercedes was that she worked a Breadstix—though how he had never seen her there before, he wasn't sure—she likes purple, Kurt is infatuated with her, and occasionally does spoken word. Since she apparently doesn't socialize much, he figured the most obvious place to try and find her would either be her home or her job. He was going to need Artie's help finding out where she lived if it came down to it. His brother _did_ have questionable stalker the time being, he figured he would try her job.

"Come on, 'Cede! It's our senior year—we could just go together and it'll be my way of making it up to you for missing open mic tomorrow! Papa Jones won't mind me taking you and I'll spare him the whole 'don't sleep with my daughter or your balls are mine' speech."

Mercedes shook her head while bustling from table to table, re-filling their parmesan cheese shakers and wiping the spilled crumbs from the table. She sighed, "Puck I don't wanna go to prom. I don't dance, and prom's got to be one of the most ridiculous on-going high school traditions ever. No. I'm not going. Don't worry about tomorrow. Also, I don't think my father will be having a talk like that with anyone for a long, long, time."

Puck sighed as well. He had been sitting in a booth, watching her weave around the tables in her white blouse, red tie and black slacks. "Just think about it before you go shooting down the idea. Prom could be fun and if nothing else you can go just for the sake of being my arm candy. And what are you talking about? You're the most beautiful girl I know, 'Cede!"

Mercedes looked up at him with a flat expression and then giggled softly when he gave her a big wink. "You're a hot mess, Puckerman**. **You only say that because I'm truly the only girl you talk to at McKinley." She shook her head at him again and resumed cleaning and restocking. This time of the day tended to be slow, regardless of what day of the week it was, but she knew it was going to pick up within the hour. At the moment she only had one table to tend to in the otherwise desolate restaurant. A group of peers from McKinley were seated in a booth on the opposite side of the restaurant, sharing a large pizza so she knew she would have some time before she'd have to go and leave the bill with them.

"This might be true but you are seriously one of the better looking girls at our school. Just sayin'! So are you ready for open mic?"

"I guess," she replied coolly with a shrug. She ignored his comment about her being pretty. Puck did always tell her she was perfect in his eyes and while the sentiment behind it is always nice, Puck and Mercedes are like siblings and nothing else. Sometimes hearing it from your dad or your brother isn't really going to make it more believable. Her hand found its way onto her hip, "My poems' 'done if that's what you 's just the usual, crappy writing for the same 10 people that come out to hear me blab."

"One day, those 10 people will be the administrators behind your fan site; I'll be the President of course although Hummel scares me a little. He might fight me for that spot. And your usual, crappy writing, will be sold worldwide along with your original music…which reminds me, there's a scholarship waiting for you to grab it so shouldn't you be working on that?"

Mercedes was about to answer her friend when she was rudely interrupted.

"Excuse me—lady? Garcon?" one of the girls at the booth called out in a loud, shrill voice while the meaty-headed boy next to her snapped his fingers.

Mercedes ground her teeth; the quickest means of triggering her temper at work was for her to be snapped at and did she just call her a young male waiter in French? She clenched her hand tightly around her rag, abandoned the container of parmesan cheese and reluctantly crossed the restaurant to return to their table.

Puck was about to correct the girl when Mercedes shook her head. "I've got this" She whispered.

"Can you help her not ruin one of the romance languages?" Puck glared at the oblivious girl.

She struggled to sound kind, "Yes? Can I help you?"

"Yeah, replied the meat head, "You can bring us a to-go box and our bill—we're done."

He snapped his finger again and pointed at the half-eaten margarita pizza. Mercedes balled her fists even tighter and through clenched teeth she asked, "Anything else, trou du cul?"

"I want a re-fill on my diet Coke," said the girl, causing the ice to rattle in her half-empty cup.

The boy winked at Mercedes and looked over to his friends. "I think she likes me."

_Don't snap, Mercedes. Don't snap_, she chanted in her mind. She reached inside her apron and left the bill on the table and then wandered away to get the girl a new coke and the to-go container. While at the soda machine, she closed her eyes and rapidly counted to 10. After opening her eyes, she snatched up a cardboard to-go box and sauntered back towards the booth, but two steps onto the dining room floor was as far as she got before halting. The booth she had once been waiting on was empty. Her mouth fell open and she hurried over to find only two slices of pizza, the bill torn in half and a quarter sitting like a paper weight on top of the two halves.

"You've_ got_ to be kidding me," she groaned and then turned, "Puuuck!"

Her best friend looked up, "What's up?"

"You didn't see those four d-bags leave, did you?"

He shook his head in confusion, "After you called him and asshole in French, and shaded that jerk, I thought there was nothing more to see so I started cruising Tumblr on my phone. Why?"

Mercedes groaned again, snatched up the torn bill and held it up, "Dine and dash."

"Dammit!" Puck spat loudly. As he stood up and hurried over, he said, "My dad's been really pissed lately about the people at our school and Carmel who do that here."

"Yeah well he's not the only one. And look," she grabbed the quarter and held it out in her palm.

"Wow." Puck shook his head repeatedly and then looked up at her sadly, "Sorry, 'Cede."

When she met his gaze, he did look genuinely apologetic. She grimaced and then sighed, "Don't be—I should've known better."

"How could you have?"

"Because they'd been acting like asses ever since they got here. I should've spit in that girl's diet coke or something…"

Puck chuckled, "You're better than that."

She stared at him and his amused smile faltered, "Orrr not?"

"Or not," she echoed, tossing the quarter back on the table.

"Look, I'll clear off the table, if you wanna just...take a 10 or something," offered Puck.

She shook her head, "Its fine. I better do something other than sit and let this rage fester. Otherwise I might ditch my apron and go after those fools."

"Well, we don't want that. Fine, just let me help you. Don't sweat it 'Cede. Doubbbleee shiiiffttt this weekend! That means double tips!" Puck said in a sing song voice, trying to cheer her up.

"Thanks," she replied, reaching for two of the cups, when she turned around to head for the kitchen, she jumped and loudly gasped.

"Uh…hey, again, Mercedes."

With her heart hammering, she rolled her eyes shut; on a scale of 1 to 10 for where her anger was at, she went from 2 to 10, down to a 6, only to be launched right back to 10.

"What are _you _doing here?" she demanded, staring Sam up and down with a mix of anger and disgust.

Sam chuckled, "Well…last time I checked this was a restaurant and I'm a growing boy with a sudden urge for breadsticks."

"No kidding smartass and that's not what I mean. I mean why are you stalking me?"

"Who says I'm stalking you?"

"Well, let's see…" Mercedes replied before slamming the cup back down on the table. "You show up when I'm picking up my stuff in the quad; you show up when I'm waiting for my ride, and now you're here at my job. So what do you want?"

"I told you, breadsticks would be nice. And since I now have the pleasure of running into you, there is a reason for me looking for you…and that would be…uh…poetry!"

Her brows shot up with absolute skepticism, "You want _poetry_?"

"Well—I mean, yeah. You're good at that stuff, right? Spoken word and all that?"

Mercedes narrowed her eyes, shooting a suspicious gaze to Puck. He caught it quickly and stepped back with his hands up in surrender. Resigning to her own assumptions she stepped away from Sam and Puck, "Sorry. Not interested. Go take a trip to the library."

She got a few quick steps away before hearing Sam at her back said, "The library is less engaging than -Wait, hold on! Why are you always running away from me?"

After whirling back around she told him, "First of all, I don't know you—other than what I've seen and heard at school, which by the way? Not impressed. And second, I'm at work which means I don't have time to tell you all the ways I know of saying no to you, so if you'll excuse me."

"But I just overheard you could take a break right now, so you _do_ have time to at least talk to me."

She stared angrily up into his crystal green orbs. "What do you really want, Sam? Do you want help with tutoring or think I can forge some last minute letter of recommendation or something because I don't help people cheat and contrary to the stereotype of wearing glasses I suck at Physics and music is my only forte and that isn't even a required cla—"

"Mercedes!" he cut across, and as intended, him saying her name rendered her silent. "I'm not looking for you to forge anything, okay? And…no, I don't need tutoring. I might struggle in English and Math sometimes from dyslexia but I think I'm doing alright, all things considered."

"He's got one of the highest GPAs in our class. I should know, we keep fighting for the number one rank."mumbled Puck bitterly as he passed them by.

Mercedes and Sam both looked to him but he kept on walking as though he hadn't uttered a word. Mercedes rolled her eyes and then looked back at Sam, "So then what do you want?"

"I told you," said Sam. "Poetry. I wanna learn what you know about it."

Still doubtful, she put her hands on her hips, "Why?"

She watched him avert his gaze, "Uhh….well…my parents think…it'd be a good idea for me to be…cultured! Yeah, and the arts are culture, right? So um…I figure, who better at our school to help me in that department then you? I mean you're in glee club, you like poetry, and…you're cultured."

Right away, Mercedes snorted, unable to keep herself from the scoff. "Yeah, right."

"Pardon?"

"Your parents are rich. If they want you to learn about the arts, why don't they just have you go study abroad in Europe or something?"

Sam rolled his eyes at her this time, "Just because my folks have money doesn't mean they're gonna ship me off to England. I don't think I'm going to learn spoken word hanging around the Big Ben , why would they do that when I could just be right here, learning a thing or two from you?"

"Oh please," she shook her head. "How do you expect to learn something about poetry from me before school's over?"

"Come to Mike's Stand tomorrow night with her," said Puck, passing by again with vacant hands. "She's performing there and tends to bring down the house." He added.

Mercedes froze for a millisecond, seeing the light bulb that turned on behind Sam's eyes; right away she snapped her gaze to Puck who was nonchalantly gathering up what remained on the table. Her gaze narrowed to an accusatory glare as she said, "'Scuse me," directed to Sam.

"Sure," he replied as she strode away, gripping the back of Puck's shirt to tow him along.

Once they were a few feet away from Sam, Mercedes whirled around to glare at Puck. "The hell do you think you're doing? This isn't funny, Noah!" she hissed, smacking him upside his head.

"Aye! Come on, Mercedes!" Puck had clearly picked up on Mercedes' changed tone. He was in trouble but he obviously didn't care. "Sam's not exactly a bottom feeder at our school. And you obviously are curious about white chocolate, too**."**

"Psh, like hell I am!...What did you call him?"

"Then why are you still talking to him?" Puck ignored the second part of that question. He loved to tease his best friend.

She opened her mouth to answer but nothing came out.

"That's what I thought. So…just go with him and see what happens! Live a little! I won't tell Papa Jones if you won't."

Before she had a chance to respond she felt Puck's hand press hard against her back, ushering her back towards Sam. She looked back at him and then to Sam.

"Okay listen, the performances start at 7. If you drive there, don't park in front or the people at the taqueria next door will get pissed and cuss you out. It's not a pretty sight at all. They get all territorial, might invite you to rumble and I don't think you stand a chance, Evans."

Mercedes was talking a million miles per hour, all the while ignoring Sam's amused look.

"So…um should I come pick y—"

"I'll meet you there," she cut across. "I'm cleaning the lard tank, puck!" She yelled**. **And with that, she snatched up the parmesan shaker and quickly walked away without another word.

Sam found a spot on the opposite side of the small lot to park at. He got out, slipping his hands into his denim jacket pockets and glanced up at the dim neon blue "Mike's Stand" neon sign. He had driven past this small shopping center before, but never had a reason to come to Mike's Stand before. The building was an intimate size on the outside. Its entry doors were tinted with a signed taped on it from the inside that read, "Karoke Every Thursday Night!" in bold letters. He pulled one of the doors open and found himself shedding his jacket almost immediately; whether it was the actual warmth of the room or him growing nervous, he wasn't sure, but he quietly slipped in and took a seat in the nearest vacant chair. He had no idea when he was going to see a familiar face—on stage or in the audience—but he hoped it would be soon. It felt like everyone was watching him try to blend in, and yet no one had been looking at him at all.

After what felt like the longest minute in history, the lights dimmed in the venue, save for one spotlight that attracted all eyes to center stage. A moment later, a soft guitar melody could be heard to the right of the stage. Sam squinted his eyes and vaguely recognized the silhouette of a guy who went to McKinley as well. Though his head was bowed toward the acoustic guitar in his lap, his long thick dreadlocks were unmistakable. _No_ one else at the school had dreads.

"That's the dreamboat, Joe Hart. He's like the God of words." The man sitting next to Sam whispered to him. Sam chose to ignore the comment and continued looking towards the stage.

Between dreads and hawk boy, Sam felt a bit of a competition but his faint concern was overshadowed when Mercedes appeared in the spotlight. She came out dressed in brown, wearing what looked like oversized stamps. Sam hid his smile, looked down and back up again once he was composed. He wasn't really laughing at her. He actually thought she looked a bit endearing. Crazy, but endearing. The light did Mercedes a lot of justice he thought as he admired her chocolate brown eyes and she began on her spoken word.

"I live in a box.

Ready to be shipped.

Slapped with labels.

Fully equipped.

But no one cares to open me.

Examine me

Take me in

And process me."

Sam had stopped looking around. His eyes were unintentionally fixed on Mercedes. Her voice was sultry and he couldn't help but notice the way her hands wrapped around the mic. She was definitely a poised performer.

"BOOM! Do you hear that?"

Sam jumped and laughed at his own ridiculousness.

"That's the sound of me not being handled with care.

Does that seem fair?

I'm just another casualty of society's wear and tear.

They shut me out because my views are too thick

Too thick like my skin

Like my body

Still, I rip.

Because I'm only human although they'll never see

That I should also be allowed to dream.

I have aspirations and though you may not see

I feel like a Queen."

He followed every word, hung on to her as if she was speaking directly to him. A part of him didn't understand where she was going but he had never seen her in this light. She was vulnerable and strong at the same time. He couldn't explain why he felt guilty, why he felt sad, why he felt intrigued all at once. Sam repeated the last word in his head. "Queen."

"What label will you slap on me next?

Too short, too stout, too loud

This feminazi, liberal, clown?"

Sam gulped. His guilt was growing stronger.

"Well I don't give a damn what you think

'Cuz one day I'll rise above while the others who once mocked,

Sink."

Mercedes started to remove the oversized stamps from her body and started to rip the room fell silent, Sam raised his hands, unsure if he should clap or not. He glanced around, and after a few overlapping claps sounded, he joined in but couldn't shake the confused look on his face. He didn't fully understand the poem but the parts he did get were loud and clear. He figured the rest of the crowd was in awe, as they were all now applauding her.

As the clapping settled down, the dreadlocked guy, Joe, joined her at center stage, pushing his guitar to his back so his hands were free to take the microphone. "Thanks, everyone—the always, beautiful, Mercedes Jones." Sam shook his head at the kid's obvious crush and rolled his eyes. A few more claps happened but Joe spoke over them, "And now we have a newcomer in our midst…righteous, as always. And you all know the tradition here at Mike's Stand so without further ado, can we have Sam Evans to the stage?"

Sam's heart stopped; his eyes bulged and his mouth fell open while the spotlight moved about the room in search of him. He looked at Mercedes like a deer in headlights as she approached and stood over him.

"Look, no one's gonna make you do this. They'll just heckle you next time you come here." She smirked at him and he rolled his eyes. His green hues studied her bespectacled face for a moment and, without giving it any more thought, stood up and let her escort him up to the stage. He'd received encouragement by other guests at the venue, but it didn't really do much for his nervousness.

"Um…hi. I'm Sam," he stupidly said. After accidentally sighing directly into the mic grill, he clamped his lips shut, stared down at his feet while his mind rapidly tried to think of something on the spot to say that might sound remotely intelligible. He took another deep breath and began on his spoken piece.

"I'm not really a poet.

Or a writer at that.

I'm not that good at saying what's on my mind either.

He stuffed his hands into his pockets while going on.

"I'm always swallowing more than my pride.

If you look inside, do you know what you'll find?

People think they know me, based on how I look

But I'll break it down for you, I'm no open book.

My dad rules every inch of me, every single day.

I'm tired of him insisting he always knows "the way"

I neglect my little brother even though he's the best.

And I am truly nothing and that's my biggest stress.

Everyone is always counting on Sam, Sam, Sam

But…

DAMN

Who can Sam count on when shit hits the fan?

Why am I the one who has to be so freaking good?

Can you explain it to me because no one else could!"

He looked out, momentarily locking gazes with Mercedes; she was looking at him like she was his biggest critic and in truth, she was. She was the one to astound and if he had to go off of the look on her face, she was either upset for how he was doing or saddened by his words—he couldn't be sure ' felt her heart hurt for Sam but wasn't about to admit to herself or to anyone

"The truth is," Sam shrugged his shoulder, "I'm just looking for validation.

I can't believe I did this without any preparation," he chuckled at himself.

"That's all I've got and it's probably the most real thing I've done.

I guess I'll see you guys around, I'd like to do this more than once."

At the end, his eyes went back to Mercedes and he smiled, hoping he might have impressed her with what he'd come up with on the spot.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but…that was really awesome!" Sam clenched his fists happily as he walked beside her to the parking lot towards his Tundra.

"Well…I'd be lying if I said you didn't shock me too. Are you a closet poet or something?"

He chuckled once, heartily, "Uh, no. Not by a long shot."

When she giggled softly, his eyes went to her face again; Mercedes pushed in her glasses and Sam grinned, gazing in her orbs. "You know…your eyes are really beautiful…"

Right away, she mocked, staring at him with disgust. "_My eyes are really beautiful?_" She scoffed, shaking her curly-haired head at him and angrily muttered, "Cultured in the arts, my ass—I _knew_ you had some other agenda!"

Sam stood, baffled by what he was hearing, "Mercedes, I—"

"No!" she raised her palm up, silencing him, "Do I even need to spell out for you what this looks like? Standing in a parking lot at night with the big shot jock telling me 'my eyes are really beautiful'?"

His hands opened up innocently, "It looks like me giving you a compliment?"

"Yeah that's not exactly what came to mind for me. I said I was bad at Physics, Sam not at psychology! I wasn't born yesterday!"

"Mercedes—"

"We're done here tonight. I'm gonna catch a ride with Joe."

"Joe? Tarantula Head? Is he even old enough to drive?Look, Mercedes,_ I _can give you a ride h—"

It was too late though; she was already backing away from him. "Save it for someone who's daft enough to believe you."

He stared after her, unsure of what else to say. Sam looked around the parking lot as if the answer was somewhere around him, but he found nothing. Resigned, he continued the short distance to his Tundra and decided to head home. The entire drive, he tossed their last conversation over and over in his mind, trying to figure out what he did wrong. His words were genuine and yet she managed to make him sound as creepy as McKinley's infamous weirdo, Jacob Ben Israel. Sam sighed, staring out the dark windshield as he arrived at home. His confusion—first over Quinn suddenly dropping him for some guy she barely knew, and then Mercedes' abrupt accusation of him—all of it gave him a headache. He was in definite need of some clarity, preferably from a female's perspective, and one that wasn't going to give him whiplash.

As he came through the front door, he spotted the familiar tableau of his brother and sister sitting in front of the living room T.V. Artie was bobbing back and forth to the Nicki Minaj video on the screen and Lauren was staring at a laptop screen with an image of a girl's face but his sister was mumbling hair and make-up terms while pointing to the girl's cheeks and brows.

"Look I dunno what kind of mumbo jumbo you're spewing over there but could you keep it down? My girl, Barbz is on."

Lauren flicked at his knit sweater, "Turn up your hearing aid, grandpa."

Sam faintly chuckled, "Hey guys."

"Hey," they both replied in near unison, as per usual.

"Um…Laur, can I talk to you for a sec?"

Lauren's brows rose. Slowly, she turned her head to display her fully dubious look at him, "Uh…surrre."

Sam rolled his eyes, "Please don't join the ranks of skeptical girls in my life, okay? I need your opinion on something. It's important."

Her distrusting look vanished and was replaced by a smirk, "Ohhh I see. Well, well big bro, you came to the right person." She patted the cushion next to her, "The doctor's chair is open. I charge for every half hour and demand payment in full."

"Don't forget to charge him for mal practice insurance!" Artie yelled from his chair.

Lauren turned around, grateful for her twin. "Oh yeah, I can't be held liable for giving you poor advice."

Sam laughed and sat next to Lauren. "It's about this girl…"

_**A/N: So what's going on here? As you guys can see we have been using a lot of the original storyline but we have changed a lot here in there. We wanted to add more characterization and we definitely want to make Sam work! So, what do you guys think so far? Who's your favorite character? What do you think Sam is going to talk to Lauren about? Hmmm?**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Bri and I do not own Glee or it's characters. If we did I'd be able to fix my car so I can drive to Cali and visit Bri and we can be reckless together. Sigh!**

**A/N: So we noticed that a lot of you are questioning Mercedes in the last chapter which we found quite interesting! Lol So in this chapter, we're going to learn a little bit more about her and it's just a little reminder that Sam's only in on this because he can't back out of a bet! So Mr. Evans isn't a little angel either! Hehe Anyway, we are so thankful for the awesome feedback and the support this fic has received! I'm trying my best to answer all your reviews! So some people have asked us how we decided to collab and well, Bri came to me first and I was like "Whoa, dude, of course" (Cuz I totes love that chick) and she was like "Cool beans let's do this." And one thing led to another and now we rule the world. It happens! Lol But seriously, I gotta say, this fic has been a joy to collab in. Enough of our Sis? Mance? Lol enjoy!**

"Welcome home, kiddo!" was the first thing Mercedes heard, as soon as she closed the front door. She spent the entire ride home with Joe calming herself down from almost being sucked into whatever juvenile antics Sam was brewing; she was just thankful she'd caught on before getting in his truck.

"Hi, Dad," she replied tiredly, sliding her large purse off her shoulder as she crossed the threshold and stepped into the living room. She saw her dad sitting on the couch, still dressed in his work clothes but he had a photo album propped open in his lap. "Sorry I'm late. I'll get the dishes tomorrow morning, no worries."

"Don't worry about the dishes sweetheart. Come here a sec, Mercedes—I wanna show you something."

She grimaced, "I'm really tired, Dad—I had a long night."

"Oh this'll just take a sec, I promise, kiddo."

Mercedes saw the harmless smile appear on her dad's face—the one that she never rejected. With a soft, resigned sigh, she wandered further into the room and took a seat next to her dad. His finger was pointing to a slightly off-colored 4-by-5 photograph of a very young Mercedes posing for the camera in her pajamas, with a tiara on her head and a glow worm tucked under one arm. She had the same round cheeks and a similar smile to the one she had now, on the rare occasions that she did smile; the difference was that all of her teeth were there whenever she smiled now.

Standing directly behind her was a woman of slender build, save the very pregnant belly she was sporting. She too was in her pajamas and cast a warm smile to the camera. And while she had tamed Mercedes' hair into two puff balls with purple barrettes, her own hair hung curly and free like Donna Summer.

"This is one of my favorite pictures of the three 'a you."

Mercedes chuckled once, dryly, "Dad, Wade's not really in this one though."

"Well, he kinda is," her dad kindly argued. His index finger tapped on the photo a couple times and then slid to the one next to it—a photo of the late Mrs. Jones cradling her newborn son. "You probably don't remember, but that picture of you and your mother playing dress-up? I took that the day before Wade was born. "And this one, here was taken just before—"

Mercedes didn't know what to say but she gave her father a nod to let him know she'd been listening. She knew what he was going to say, and it didn't need to be spoken aloud. She thought that time was stressful, but it was nothing compared to the past two ears. The past two years had been the most difficult, awkward, painful and lonely time of her life. She remembered being at school when it happened.

_She remembered passing notes in home economics to Puck, just to stay awake during Mrs. Hagberg's lecture on proper clean-up skills in the kitchen. Puck had drawn a Peanuts-style comic of the entire class looking bored while the lower half of Mrs. Hagberg's body sported a dialogue bubble filled with the words, "Wah, wah, wah, wah," over and over. Mercedes clamped her lips shut to keep from giggling out loud and started scribbling down a response—other than laughs—back to him. Then the guidance counselor, Miss Pillsbury came scurrying into the room and murmured something close to Mrs. Hagberg's ear. Mercedes looked up and noticed right away that Miss Pillsbury was staring intently back at her with her large, alert eyes. _

"_Mercedes," droned Mrs. Hagberg. "Get your things together and go with Miss Pillsbury."_

_Mercedes brows knitted in confusion. She glanced over at Puck to see him mirroring her own lack of understanding, but quickly gathered up her things as instructed and left with the counselor, taking the comic with her. As they walked down the hall towards her office without a word, Mercedes could feel a giant knot of concern growing even larger in the pit of her stomach. Something told her that things weren't, "OK," the moment Miss Pillsbury singled out her gaze to her before claiming her from the class._

_They didn't go inside the counselor's office; in fact, they hadn't even arrived at it yet when Miss Pillsbury briskly whirled around and bore her grim, wide eyes at Mercedes. Mercedes stared at her in confusion—all the humor from passing notes with Puck was leaving her face as the knot in her stomach evolved into panic. "What is it, Miss P?" she asked in a low tone, trying to maintain control over her voice. Her immediate thought went to her mother, and then Wade. Had something happened to one of them? Maybe it was her father. She didn't know and the longer she stood in silence with this woman, the more frustrated she was becoming._

"_What happened?" Mercedes demanded through gritted teeth._

"_I'm so sorry, Mercedes," Miss Pillsbury finally breathed. She looked like she might cry, "They um…the school received a call…from the hospital."_

_Everything turned surreal at a very surreal pace for Mercedes. After Miss Pillsbury went on to say, "Your mother…" everything else became water in her ears. Mercedes was no longer present. Her surroundings were nonexistent, and the information that the hospital gave the school to relay to her had fallen on deaf ears. _

She blinked herself back to the present, seeing her dad waving his hand in front of her face while crooning, "Merceeeedeeeessss? You okay, kiddo?"

Mercedes shook her head rapidly—not to answer him but to steel her thoughts. "Yeah, sorry Dad."

"It's okay, baby girl. I know you're tiredand I um…I know these photos aren't all that easy to look at but…I couldn't help myself, y'know?"

Mercedes swallowed thickly and averted her gaze. "I know," she croaked back. After promptly clearing her throat she said, "Dad I…had a long night, and you've got work in the morning…" She placed her hand on her father's chest and gave him a concerned look. "Tell me you stuck to Turkey, organic burgers tonight!"

Her father gave her a digusted look.

"Dad!"

"I did, I did. They were delicious…I guess. And you? I hope you got to munch on something."

"Don't worry about me dad, I'm solid. So…I should really be getting to bed…."

He'd picked up on her vague translation of, "_I can't look at pictures of mom anymore tonight_," and nodded, bringing the album to a slow close. "Okay, Kiddo. Yeah, uh…let's hit the hay. Don't wanna oversleep and make you kids late for school. Leave those dishes for me! You have to stop spoiling me!"

He chuckled softly and Mercedes returned it with a weak smile. It was her job to spoil her father because she had no other way of conveying her emotions. This was her responsibility and she never regretted it. She knew her dad was still hurting too—all of them were in their way. Wade dove deeper into his eccentric love of fashion and performing, making him an even bigger yet lovable drama queen than before. Her dad was still struggling to find his balance as a widower, and she was…

On her trek up the stairs, she thought about _exactly_ what she was. She was picking up the pieces everyone else dropped. She was trying to fill in the gaps left behind that her mom used to take care of—keeping everyone properly fed, making sure trash night wasn't forgotten and that everyone's laundry didn't pile up too high. Sometimes she sat down with her dad to help make sure all of the bills were appropriately taken care of. After rummaging through some old bills, she found a stress test her father had taken and had come back positive. When she confronted him, she was awful. Yelling at him for not thinking of her and Wade and then she promised him and herself that she'd make sure she wouldn't lose him too. A cardiac diet was a bit more expensive. Organic food meant more money and this meant she'd have to take double shifts at Breadstix. Her father always refused to take her money so she took it upon herself to go grocery shopping for him. She figured, he couldn't refuse it once it was purchased. She looked out for her little brother as best she could and helped him with his homework whenever he needed it.

She made less time for the friends she used to have—all except for Puck, who had held her up whenever she thought she might crumble and never get back up. She felt bad for people like Kurt Hummel who for some reason, worshipped the ground she walked on but she never basked in any of that glory. And although she never admitted it aloud—though it hadn't really been a conscious effort on her part, she hardened her heart and spirit, for the sake of being able to focus on supporting her family. Weekends were just like any other day, full of chores, daily "dad-ventions" where she made sure the fat on his meat was trimmed or all the salt in the house was disposed of, and the occasional "Mercedes time" where she tried to finish the song she had been working on since the end of sophomore year.The word 'fun' became redefined during the time that remained of her sophomore year, as well all of her junior and senior year. She morphed into a greater outcast-beyond the one that being part of glee club provided. She was the school weirdo—an intelligent loner, if it were phrased nicely. And although it bothered her at first, she built a brick wall and convinced herself she was unfazed.

As she collapsed on her bed and pulled her shoes and glasses off, she thought all of this over, letting herself feel the weight of all she'd taken on, coupled with the reminder of her mother's passing—something that never failed to pop into the forefront of her mind every day. But tonight, it was one of the rare times that she couldn't keep herself fully together. She often let things pile up in her mind and when it became far too much at once, she would cry it out, and let the vacant mental space start to fill back up all over again like a cycle. Her night at Mike's Stand was bittersweet; she'd finally been able to voice her latest poem, and was surprised at what she heard Sam Evans come up with on the fly, but she still didn't know what he wanted. His excuse of wanting to become more cultured still sounded like a load of crap but after dismissing it, she couldn't find something to explain his motive.She hated to admit that she was impressed with his impromptu poem and what she hated even more was admitting she actually for a split second, saw a different Sam Evans than the one that would usually go around with his brethren spreading annoyance and bullying McKinley's underdogs. That in and of itself was enough to make her head hurt, but now she had racing thoughts and memories of her with her mother, and the day she had been told her mother died, and the multitude of duties she chose to now commit to.

She buried her face into one of her pillows, squeezed her eyes shut and quietly cried herself into unconsciousness.

{ }

Sam bore a flat, un-amused look at his little sister and brother—both of whom were shaking with silent laughter.

"Wait…wait s-so _you_, Sam 'big shot' Evans w-went to a spoken word joint? And spoke _on stage_? For a girl?" asked Lauren.

He watched her throw her head back as her mouth fell open with more silent but obvious laughs. After rolling his dark green eyes he asked, "You do realize you're not helping, right? I think I'll just take my money elsewhere."

Lauren lost it and laughed out loud, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I just…you…oh my God, Sam! I think I've heard it all!"

"Even I gotta admit, bro," interjected Artie in between his own chuckles, "first thing that came to mind? You wearing dark sunglasses and a French beret while some dude named Figaro beats on some bongos behind you. Figaro's a kind soul. He's got three kids to support. They all live a bohemian lifestyle somewhere in an urbanized town. He played Mark in the latest off Broadway stint of _RENT_."

Lauren could not stop laughing. She started hyperventilating and tearing up. "HIS NAME IS FIGARO! I CAN'T!"

Sam threw his hands up, "Well you guys are no help. Thanks."

He started to get up but Lauren threw herself at him, gripping his arm and yanking him back down on the couch, "Hold on, Sam-Bam!" She loudly insisted, but was still giggling. "I'm gonna help you—just…gimme a sec. Let me just shake this off. Okay?" Lauren began shaking her whole body and moving her head around while Sam shook his head at his eccentric twin siblings.

"Yeah, I'mm aneed more than a sec to get that golden image outta my mind. How come you didn't bring the beret home for show and tell?" Artie said, casting a sly grin at his brother.

Sam chucked a pillow at him, "I _didn't_ wear a beret and sunglasses, alright?"

Lauren and Artie's guffaws dimmed to light snickers, and Lauren rubbed his leg in a patronizing manner, "Of _course_ you didn't, Sam-Bam. So this girl likes poetry and you went there to try and impress her?"

"Yeah," he muttered.

"And she…wasn't impressed?" Lauren asked, puzzled as to what the problem was. "What? Did you throw down a few verses about peanut butter or something?"

Sam's lips pinched together into a flat line. "No, that wasn't it. I actually did a half-decent job. I think. Anyway, it wasn't the poetry. I gave her a compliment and she managed to make me sound like a pedophile or something."

"Whoa," said Artie, raising a hand like a stop sign. "What kinda compliment didja give her, bro? I have a feeling I'm gonna have to teach you a few things here."

Sam shrugged innocently, "I told her she had nice eyes."

He watched Lauren's brows shoot up while the rest of her face looked utterly un-impressed. "Nice eyes?"

"Well…yeah, I said her eyes were beautiful."

"Oh…" his sister's facial expression smoothed out again, "So she didn't believe you?"

"No! I don't get it—I thought girls liked being told stuff like that." He glared at the floor and muttered, "Quinn liked it."

"Ooookay, stop right there." When he looked up, Lauren was the one holding her hand up this time, palm side at his face. "First of all, if you're really over Quinn like you say, you can't go around comparing this girl to her. Second off, you have to stop thinking all girls think the same. I mean,_ is _this girl anything like Quinn?"

"Noo, no, no, not at all," Sam quickly replied.

"Well I like her already,I approve of your selection. When can I get fitted for my best man tux?" commented Artie.

Sam rolled his eyes.

"Who is she?" asked his brother. "Wonder if she's in my little black book. We can start with the A's. Abigail, Abby, Agatha, Aileen, Alessandra…"

It was impossible for Sam to stop the dubious snort that left his mouth. "Yeah, right. Mercedes Jones. Ring a bell?"

Artie squinted at the floor in thought, like the answer was at his feet. Finally a light bulb went off in his head, "Ohhh, Mercedes Jones! Foxy chocolate mama with the hipster glasses, right?"

"Foxy?" Sam scoffed.

"What? She is! She's like the curvy Angela Davis of Lima. She's got that sexy librarian look going on, curves in all the right places; you know what I'm talking about?" Artie outlined a wide hour glass shape with his hands to emphasize his point.

"You need to get your glasses checked." Sam scoffed, trying to ignore the image of Mercedes in her brown tights, hugging all her curves.

"No,_you_ need to get outta the kiddie pool and try dating girls with depth," Artie snappily retorted. "Check him out! Trying to teach ME about fine women!"

Sam jerked his head back like his brother had just taken a swipe across his face. He quickly glanced at Lauren, only to find her buttoning her lips in silent agreement with her twin. A flash of anger washed over Sam, and he barely made time to look hurt because he was too busy being chagrined by the truth. On top of that, he hated feeling uncomfortable at home—which happened more and more his senior year than any other time in his life, but that was usually their father's fault.

"Sooo," Lauren spoke after a long, awkward silence. "This Mercedes chick gets mixed reviews at the school?"

Sam pinched his lips together again and weakly defended her. "She's not a movie, Laur."

"No duh, Sherlock. I'm just saying—you guys obviously have different opinions of her."

"She used to be okay once...I guess. Her poem was pretty good. I don't know. I never really knew her. She was someone that was always just…there, at school."

"If you had to put her in a clique…" Lauren started to ask.

"Um…probably…outcast? I dunno, I don't think she actually _belongs _anywhere…" replied Sam.

"I'd go with chic nerd or sexy librarian" Artie replied coolly, letting his hand surf through the air to coincide with the title. "Plus this girl's got mad pipes. She brought the house down at the last school assembly. Figgins wanted to do a self-esteem awareness week or some made-up school hoopla. Anyway, home girl repped for the glee club and sang "Beautiful" in front of the whole school."

Sam's forehead creased as he made his mind recall this. As a member of school's ASB with Quinn, Brittany, Finn and Santana, they had been responsible to help the faculty with behind-the-scenes stuff for the assembly, so he hadn't actually _seen_ Mercedes perform this, but he did remember hearing her voice. Once again, his brother had been right—she was an incredible singer, but he had no reason to really care about her vocal talent before. Prior to this bet, she was just the hippie glee geek feminazi.

"Okay," Lauren spoke, breaking him away from his private tangent. "So what do you know about this girl, besides she likes poetry and apparently thinks you're a creep?"

"Um…" Sam tried to recall what Kurt had told him earlier but all he had was, "…she likes purple?"

Artie smacked his palm to his forehead while Lauren rolled her eyes, "Wow, well that gives us a great starting point. How about you try to get to know her? Find out what she likes?"

"I did. Why do you think I went to Mike's Stand tonight?"

"Okay well how'd you find out she liked spoken word?"

She'd cornered him. In the most vague answer he could conjure on the spot, he said, "I had some connections help me out."

His sister grimaced at him. "You had connections help you out?"

"Yeah." When he was met with silence he shrugged and defensively stated, "She wouldn't talk to me! Laur seriously, I tried like…Twice to talk to her but she blew me off—I was desperate!"

Lauren leaned back on the couch and quickly eyed him suspiciously, "Why's Mercedes so important to you, Sam-Bam? Really, you don't know jack squat about her, and you don't sound like you're attracted to her at all and now you're sitting here telling us you were desperate to get to know her…what gives?"

The room suddenly felt uncomfortably warm to Sam as he bit his lip. "Um…" He was not about to admit to his siblings that he was doing it all in the name of a bet between him and Finn. "Look, I just think there's potential there...for…uh...her to finish out the year better than she started it. I mean I told you—she's kind of an outcast, despite being in glee. It's nothing serious. I can…help her**.**"

"Psh, I'm sure," mocked Artie under his breath. When Sam shot him a look, he grinned unnecessarily wide at him.

Sam rolled his eyes again and looked back to Lauren.

"Uh huh…so you want to help her?How about this then…if you're treating her like a charity case…"

Sam opened his mouth to argue but Lauren's hand shut him up again.

"I'm calling it like I see it, bro. Anyway, if you wanna show her a good time that's out of _her_ norm, then invite her to something. You and the Two Stooges like going to the lake," said Lauren with a matter-of-factly shrug. "Take her there."

A brilliant smile stretched across his face. Sometimes he wondered what he would do without his siblings. "Have I told you lately that I love you, Laur?"

"Nope, but the reminder's usually nice."

Sam hopped up from the couch, gave her a quick peck on the cheek, "Muwah! You're the best."

As he left the room and darted up the stairs he teasingly hollered, "Artie, sometimes you're the best too!"

"Psh, denial's not pretty on you, Sam!" his brother called back. "This is 24-7 greatness over here!"

"Sam?" Lauren called up one last time.

"Yes princess?" Sam flattered her from the top of his stairs. Artie and Lauren both rolled their eyes.

"Just don't be a jerk, okay?"

Sam let he words set in before he can answer her. "Sure, Laur. Okay."

Mercedes' eyes felt annoyingly heavy the next morning. She had a private sense of gratitude that the puffiness around her eyes from crying hadn't shown when she'd woken up, but her eyes were still a little red by the time she got to school. As their dad let them out, Wade took off from the rear seat and Mercedes made to follow after him but her dad spoke up, "Hey, kiddo?"

Mercedes paused in the passenger's seat and looked back at her dad, pushing her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose.

"Sorry about last night, Merce," her dad said in a low, grave tone. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's okay, Dad. I know you didn't," she replied, sounding genuinely sympathetic. The intense amount of remorse and sadness in her dad's big brown eyes forced Mercedes to star at the car floor a second later. "I um…should get going—don't wanna be late. Remember! Veggie delight pizza tonight!" Mercedes had become a pro at changing subjects.

"Oh—right, of course. Have a good day!" said her dad, perking back up with a weary smile.

Mercedes offered a faint one back and finally got out of the car, feeling pained by the brief conversation she just had with her dad. She hated that things felt so stiff and forced most of the time when they were alone now. They needed Wade to be around to break through the awkwardness with one of his _Project Runway_ rants, or desires to put on a mini vocal recital for them and receive praise and critiques. Wade was their bridge, now that her mom was gone.

She found herself thinking again about the day in the hallway with Miss Pillsbury, and later that same day when she arrived at the hospital, her entire way to her locker and then some.

"Happy Friday, Titans! I dunno about the rest of y'all but yours truly could not be more grateful for the weekend. I know I got some hunnies on speed dial just dying to score a date with this guy right here! The countdown rolls on, for all you seniors. Will all of you make it to finals week? Are ya'll gonna cram it this year or are you cheating off of your fellow know it all? I know some of ya'll have been raiding the library already. Who's getting voted in for Valedictorian this year? Who knows? And speaking of noses—my condolences goes out to one garanimal-wearing school girl whose nose got pelted by a flawed football toss by one Finn Hudson. Hey Rachel Berry, if it's any consolation, Marcia Brady's nose looked worse. Keep your head up, sweetheart! Last but not least—seniors**! **Can't say I'm gonna miss ya! Just kidding but seriously, damn, what is this? Where's the love for the rest of us?...Anyway, seniors, make sure you swing by the office and holla at ya counselor Miss Pillsbury, with your future plans. The post grad list is going up soon and she needs to know what all y'all have in store for yourselves. Heading to college? Let her know. Setting up a rent agreement with mom and pop? She'll wanna know. Touring with a rock band? Take me with you!Poppin' out a kid? Tell her. You've got all of next week to get that shizz done! And last but not least, Amber baby please call Chord because he's so sorry he missed your birthday. He hasn't seen you in a hot minute baby girl and he needs some of that lovin'!"

Mercedes had missed most of the morning announcements, due to her absorption of the weighty thoughts on her mind from the previous night. In her own daze, she nearly dropped her books again, but a large tan hand flew out of nowhere and spared her textbooks from more abuse. Mercedes looked up and to her disappointment, saw that the hand belonged to Sam Evans. The thoughts of her mother were shoved aside as she grimaced Sam. "Thanks."

"No problem. That dude Chord isn't gonna give up, huh?" he replied with a crooked smile.

_Why does he have to smile at me like that?_

She immediately shook the wonder away and faced her locker again. "Guess not." She whispered in response.

"Are you okay?" she heard him ask.

Her brows immediately slanted towards each other but she didn't look at him as she answered, "Yeah. Why?"

"Your eyes are all red."

Her lips pursed together tightly and her cheeks began to warm. She wasn't about to tell him, or anyone that she had been crying last night, and thankfully he didn't really allow her to fashion up a quick lie or dismissive response.

"Probably just allergies, I guess," he mumbled. Immediately he spoke more clearly, "Anyway. Look, I just came to tell you I'm sorry if what I said last night freaked you out. I mean...I still don't really see what was wrong about me paying you a compliment but I wanna show you I'm being genuine."

She cocked a brow, turning her head to look up at him again, only his eyes weren't on her; he was looking at something in her locker—probably at Whitney or Mariah. "What are you talking about, Sam?"

He shrank back from her a fraction but answered, "I'm talking about going to the lake tomorrow with me and a few friends."

Right away, Mercedes chuckled once. "No thanks. I've had the displeasure of running into your friends too many times here in the hallways. No offense but they're just not my cup of tea which is okay because I don't really think I'm theirs."

"Come on, Mercedes—it won't be at school, so it'll be different. No hallways. Besides, don't you just like to have fun?"

"I have fun," She replied indignantly.

"Oh yeah? Doing what?"

She pursed her lips, "I write. I sing…" her list stopped there because everything else she might say wouldn't really qualify as 'fun' to any sane teenager. Getting all the grease out of the lard tank on Tuesdays didn't seem at all fun to the outside world.

Both of Sam's brows shot up, "And?" When she didn't say anything more, he averted his gaze and mumbled, "Wow."

"Hey!" she replied, baring full resentment to his judgment.

"Sorry! It's just…I mean come on—there's more fun things to do. Like going to the lake. It's one day, 'Cede."

Her heart skipped a beat unexpectedly when he called her ''Cede', but she briefly ignored the weird feeling and narrowed her eyes at him. "'Cede?"

Sam shrugged, "Isn't that what your friend calls you?"

Mercedes shoved one of her books into her locker, "Yeah that's what my _friend_ calls me."

She heard Sam sigh, and her eyes went back to him, still casting an icy look up at his face. But her heart did a couple more unusual things when his large hand came down on her shoulder with a tender grasp. It was like the touch was fire to melt her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he replied in a way that made her believe it.

"It's fine," she replied quietly.

"Will you come with me tomorrow, Mercedes? We can make a day out of it. I'll make a basket. Do you like peanut butter and jelly?"

"I…" her head was a mess. She went from recalling her mom, to being instantly angered, to feeling confused and a little rapt, and finally remembering, "I can't."

She saw the defeated look cross Sam's face in an instant.

"I have to work," she quickly explained. "Double shift."

"Oh…" It seemed like Sam's disappointment shifted, "Oh, that's right. I forgot about hearing you and your friend say something about that this weekend."

She raised her eyebrows again and mused, _You're nosey as hell, aren't you?_

"Okay, how about next weekend?"

"How about 'what' next weekend?"

Mercedes tilted her head to look past Sam; he turned around just as Puck approached with an intrigued look on his face.

"I was inviting Mercedes to the lake with me next week. Friday, after school."

"Oh."

Mercedes' eyes went back and forth between Sam and Puck; neither had stopped staring at the other. It was like they'd silently challenged one another to an impromptu staring competition, but she recognized the protective glare glinting in Puck's eyes. No way was he gonna be okay with a second round of Sam's out-of-the-blue interest in her. It was still fishy that one of the best-looking, most popular guys in school had suddenly become infatuated with her.

"Sounds like a good time," Puck said. "You gonna go?**.**"

Mercedes gaped. _Traitor_, she hissed in her mind. "I don't know. I probably have work."

"Or you probably don't, I can probably fill in for you. Double shifts are what I live for," said Puck, thinking he was being helpful—or knowing that he wasn't. He stepped a little closer, shouldering himself between her and Sam without making Sam look for feel unwelcomed. As his head dipped down he whispered, "I'll talk to my dad."

Mercedes narrowed her eyes at Puck but immediately relaxed her expression when she looked back to Sam. "Um…I don't know. I know I have a lot of uh…chores to do at home."

Sam cocked a brow."A week's worth of chores?"

"Yep," she blurted out. She wasn't exactly lying. She was just exaggerating the truth.

"I see." For a moment Mercedes wasn't sure if she saw the smirk that flashed across his face. "Well, let me know soon, okay? I'd really like for you to come."

Mercedes gave him a faint, closed-lipped smile and nodded once watching him turn and walk away. She stared after his dark blond head until Puck spoke up again.

"Alright what am I not getting, 'Cede? Dude's into you and you barely wanna give him a chance. Cold-blooded, girl."

She rolled her eyes. "Sam Evans doesn't date girls like me."

"Oh sure, compare yourself to Quinn Facray," Puck said sarcastically."Look at how well _that_ turned out for him. As far as I'm concerned, Sam Evans needs to stop dating girls like her—hot as she may be. There isn't a reason for him not to date a _woman_ like you, 'Cedes. How many times do I have to tell you—you're a beautiful person? You're the best one I know. You're smart, outspoken, talented, and one sexy mama if you'd let yourself be! Speaking of... it wouldn't kill you to learn to love your contacts," he teased with a wink and a smirk.

Mercedes playfully jabbed him with her elbow, "Psh…For the millionth time, Puck, that ain't happening. There's nothing wrong with my glasses. And the contacts are annoying as all hell. The idea of touching my eyeball is enough to make me throw up in my mouth. If I didn't have to keep them around as back-up to my glasses breaking or something, I'd trash them."

"I'm just sayin' it wouldn't hurt. You have pretty eyes." His arm slung around her shoulder after she closed her locker and she smirked at his little comment. Puck was such a troll. Together they walked down the hall, heading to their first class. "Give his little date at the lake thing a chance and if you don't have some fun, or his peanut butter and jelly sandwiches aren't top notch,I won't bother you about him anymore, and I'll bug my dad some more about giving you a raise."

"Why are you so invested in me giving Sam a chance, hm?"

Puck shrugged, "I just want you happy, 'Cede. And who knows? Maybe Sam's the guy to do that for you. You act all mad and shit when he comes around you but I see how you look at him."

Right away, Mercedes wanted to jump on the defense, but she couldn't. If she were being honest with herself, she'd admit that she could secretly acknowledge—if nothing else—Sam's good looks. He was tall, athletic; broad shoulders, dark green eyes and that _smile_…

"So what? Any girl at this school knows Sam's a good-looking guy. Big deal."

"It _is_ a big deal, 'Cede. Any girl might know Sam's a looker or whatever, but how many have him actively pursuing them?"

At this, she came up short. She didn't know the real answer, but what she did know was that he'd been paying her a lot of attention lately.

"Don't over-think and overanalyze everything, 'Cede Baby. That'll build brick walls and you'll miss out on a shit ton—like my growing 'hawk." He bowed his head and pointed to his landing strip. "See? Lady pleaser right there."

At that she laughed, "It doesn't look any different than yesterday. Sorry."

"See? Being a wet blanket again."

_Maybe Puck was right_, she thought, upon taking her seat in Physics class. Maybe all the guards she'd put up for herself were what was really causing her to see Sam with such skepticism. Sure he was a big shot on campus, but did that mean that everything she heard about him was true? The more that the answer, 'no' pulsed in her mind, the more she pondered going to the lake with him next weekend.

"But I don't even have a swim suit."

"I think that's when our friend Kurt comes into the picture," Puck winked at her and the two started to listen into today's lecture.

**A/N: Ah yes, the plot thickens. What's that? Mercy's walls are crumbling a bit? What's that you got there Mercy? Are you in like with Sam Evans? Hmm? Lol And what about you Sammy? Since when do you care about how red her eyes are? Huuuhh? We see you! We see you both! Lol Okay darling reviews, what are you looking forward to seeing? And tell us what has been the highlight in reading this so far? Gotta go, I've got a date with Figaro! ;) **


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: WE FINALLY OWN GLEE! **

…

**Just kidding…still broke. We don't own anything. **

**A/N: So glad that people are coming around and realized Sam is a lil playa! Lol but players have emotions…This particular one has an emotion that starts with J and ends with Y **

"I can't."

Sam stared down at her, following her down the hall with frustrated confusion. "Why not?"

She whirled around, standing just outside the cafeteria door. "I told you last week, Sam. I have a lot of chores to do."

"Oh come on, Mercedes—that was a front and you know it."

"I wasn't fronting," she curtly replied.

"Yes you were," he briskly replied, and then smirked when he knew how right he was. "How about this—we'll go and if you don't have fun, I'll take you home, no questions asked."

He tried to make his deal sound enticing enough for her to just say 'yes' and for the moment that she mulled it over, he thought for sure that she was going to take it, but at the last hanging second she told him, "Sorry. Besides, I don't even have a suit," and turned to enter the cafeteria.

Sam stood at the door, watching her disappear into the crowded lunch room. What was he doing wrong? What was it going to take for her to come? He was going to have to take drastic measures but he wasn't sure if it was a path he should venture down just yet. What he really refused to acknowledge was how persistent he was getting.

"Oh I know—what the actual hell was she thinking?"

Sam turned to his left only to see acquaintance, Kurt Hummel, sauntering towards the cafeteria entrance alongside Mercedes' baby-faced brother. A light came on in Sam's mind, while a contemplative smirk crossed his face. He was going to need some confirmation from the other Jones if he was going to resort to cashing in more owed favors.

"Hi, Sam," spoke Kurt in a brisk but friendly tone. He passed right by Sam and waltzed into the cafeteria.

Mercedes' brother on the other hand, faltered in his steps, giving Sam a slightly gaping look.

Sam gave Kurt a nod 'hello', but his eyes were on Wade. "Hey, you're Mercedes' little brother, right?"

"Yes," breathed Wade, coming to a halt. "Yes, I'm Wade Adam Jones. And you're Sam Evans. _The _Sam Evans. You modeled for the school catalogue. I feel like I'm meeting a celebrity right now. Wow!" He sounded like he might start hyperventilating. "Sorry it just…oh my gosh, I never thought you'd talk to me."

Apparently Sam had quite the fan in young Wade Jones.

"Um…yeah, I'm Sam, I completely forgot I was in that catalogue**!**" he replied, unsure of what to say about Wade's last remark.

"I have a question for you," whispered Wade. "Kurt and I were trying to figure something out..."

Kurt opened his eyes widely and shook his head, hoping Wade would catch on to his discomfort.

Sam's brows rose, "Oh…Okay."

"Did you really dye your hair with lemon juice?"

"Ooookay," Sam dismissively retorted, "now_ I_ have a question for you."

"But—"

"No comment. That's my answer."

Wade nodded eagerly, "Okay. So um…what did you want to ask me, Sam Evans?"

Sam rose his hand and held, mid-torso level. "Just…call me Sam. And I want to know if you and your sister have a bunch of chores to do this weekend."

He expected the confused look that came over Wade's features, but hadn't expected him to actually say, "Yes."

Sam was brought up short, replying only with, "Oh…" He'd been prepared for a clear, 'no', but was surprised to find Mercedes had been truthful with him.

"Um…why do you ask?" wondered Wade.

"I um…well I invited your sister to come to the lake with me after school today but she told me she couldn't come because of the chores."

Something in Wade's innocent face changed; he suddenly seemed a bit more mischievous. "Ohhh like a date?"

Sam smiled warily, "Yeah, like a date."

Wade gasped, "Excellent. Well…yeah, we usually do chores around the house on weekends to help our dad out."

Something changed in Wade's tone but Sam wasn't sure what it was about; he internally shrugged the curiosity off and asked, "Do all the chores have to be done today?"

"Well no," started Wade. "We do them during the whole weekend. The bulk of them get done on Saturdays, so…" Wade shrugged.

"Perfect," replied Sam. His eyes flashed to the cafeteria door where he noticed Kurt was standing, making an obvious attempt to be discreet on his eavesdropping. After stretching his lips into a contemplative smirk, Sam told Wade, "If I get you and your sister some help with chores this weekend, will your dad flip out?"

Wade bit his lips, "Well…I don't think he will. He's not exactly a temperamental man to begin with, and he'd probably just think 'Cedes and I suddenly sprouted new friends or something…why do you want her to come to the lake with you so badly though? If I may ask?"

Sam shrugged, "Your sister's a nice girl. There's some fun stuff happening this weekend and I figure we could hang."

Naively, Wade nodded and smiled brightly, "Fun. Well, 'Cedes definitely needs some of that in her life. You're a good man Sam Evans. I mean, Sam**…**She's lucky you're into her, I think."

With a hidden twinge of guilt, Sam said, "Thanks." Before the guilt could grow to an uncomfortable level he looked to the cafeteria door again, "Hey Kurt!"

The slender brunette snapped to attention and then sauntered over. "You called?"

"Yep," replied Sam, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet, "and I need your help again."

{ }

"Afternoon, Titans! So sorry you had to wait to hear my sweet crooning voice today. Crazy mix-ups happenin' behind the scenes but don't worry your pretty little heads, ladies—Artie Abrams is still alive and ready to deliver the goods. First up? Prom tickets are officially on sale, make those proposals sizzle, y'all. If there's a senior hunnie out there that wants the cutest radio dj on their arm, you know where to find me.Next? Coach Roz is on the warpath to find out who's turning her precious pool into their personal porcelain throne. Whew—try saying _that _five times fast! Anyway, if you have an urge to rat out the culprit, drop her line at her office. Anonymous tips are welcome. Amber baby? Chord's got a special message for you. He wanted me to say…am I reading this right? "Boop!" Baby, just take this boy to prom before he loses all his masculinity. And last, will the lovely Ms. Lopez _please_ stop blowin' up my line? I know I'm a hot commodity, babycakes but stop worrying your pretty little head—I got you covered for tomorrow night." He clicked his tongue flirtatiously, once into the mic and wrapped up, saying,"Enjoy your weekend boys and babes!"

Mercedes tugged absent-mindedly on a ringlet of her hair while she walked down the hall in search of Puck. She soon spotted him leaning against her locker with his eyes on his cell phone. When she reached him she said, "Hey."

"Hey," he muttered back.

"Ready to go? And thanks again for the ride today. My dad's schedule got messed up today. Took me almost all of lunch to assure him Wade and I would get ourselves home."

No problem, but…well, actually I'm not giving you a ride today. Just Wade."

Mercedes answered his twitchy smile with a stunned and confused one of her own. "Say what? Why are you only giving Wade a ride home?"

"Because I'm gonna give you a ride."

Mercedes whirled around, and blinked rapidly, "Kurt? Hi, um...no offense, but…why?"

"Because," Kurt stated in a friendly, brisk tone, "My undying love for you does this thing where I miss you every so often. I think that's called friendship." Kurt grinned as Mercedes rolled her eyes at his sarcasm. "But really, you and I are overdue for a little afternoon of shopping." Before giving her the chance to protest, he linked arms with her, "Come on,' and towed her down the hall.

"Don't worry about things, 'Cede," called Puck after they were several feet away. "Go enjoy yourself!"

She could feel a twinge of a delighted Puck staring at her back, but didn't bother turning around to check. Something told her there was a hidden meaning behind Puck's farewell but she didn't have time to linger on it because Kurt dove into one of his lectures on fashion. This time, he brought up swimsuits but it wasn't until they were already at the Lima Mall that she put the pieces together.

{ }

"`Ey! Sam I Am!"

Sam grinned as he closed the driver's door to his Tundra and stared at his group of friends. Mike's hands were up in the air like he was preparing for a hug, even though he was far too many yards away for an embrace, and Finn briefly acknowledged him before turning his attention back to Brittany and Santana. After slinging his duffle strap over his shoulder, Sam wandered over to join them. They, along with Tina had a spot staked out near the lake's edge and when he reached it, he saw Brittany and Santana sprawled out on towels in their bikinis, thwarting Finn's harmless flirty advances.

"Ugh, take a hike Frankenteen," spat Santana as she twisted her upper body towards Brittany.

"Hey guys," spoke Sam, setting his duffle back down. He pulled his aviator shades up over his dark blond bangs and took out his own towel, then shed his Letterman's jacket and shirt to stuff in the bag.

"So where's Mercedes?" Finn loudly asked.

Sam flushed, unsure if he and Mike had filled the girls in on the bet. But when the turned equally inquiring gazes on him, he coolly answered, "She'll be here."

As if the timing could be more perfect, his phone buzzed in the pocket of his swim trunks. He pulled it out and read a text from Kurt:

"_We're here. She's not happy_."

_Not surprised_, Sam thought to himself. He looked over to the spot where his Tundra was parked and saw Mercedes getting out of a dark sedan. After shutting the passenger door, the sedan drove off and she started a slow walk towards him. For a moment, Sam felt frustrated while walking over to meet her; sure, Kurt had gotten her here but where was her swimsuit? If he'd been swindled out of the money he'd given up, he was gonna rip Kurt a new one, first thing Monday morning.

"Hey," he said to her, bringing his sunglasses back down over his eyes. He stopped in front of her and smiled, pushing back his brief annoyance with her friend because she was staring at him from behind her eyeglasses. Her gaze, however, was nowhere on his face, and that made his smile shrink, knowingly. When it seemed like she realized she was ogling his bare abs, she blinked rapidly and finally looked to his face.

"You're recruiting help from my friend to help you now?"

Sam shamelessly shrugged, "It worked, didn't it?"

"You're an ass."

"Then why'd you get out of Kurt's car?" She buttoned her lips and he smirked, "That's what I thought."

"Shut up," she mumbled, walking onward. "I thought he was taking me home but when I realized he was taking me to the lake and said you were my way home, I—well first I cussed at him for tricking me, but he didn't care. 'You either go to the lake with him or walk home,'" she said in a voice he assumed was supposed to be Kurt's.

Sam chuckled and teased, "I don't give him enough credit. That impression needs a little work by the way."

"Like I care," she retorted. "Anyway, you got me here, Sam. And Kurt took me to get a bathing suit but to be honest it's in vain."

"Why?"

"Do you know how many chemicals they try and sneak into the lake? I'm surprised people aren't fishing out mutant trout or something. I'm fine on the surface, thank you very much."

Sam stopped mid-stride and looked at her, "Wait…you've never gone in the lake?"

"Hell to the no!" she promptly replied.

He leaned away from her sudden response, "Whoa, okay. Well…listen, the world's got its problems but nothing's perfect, right? You should learn to live a little. Besides, I've been in the lake dozens of times. Do I have two heads?"

"Not to the naked eye, no," she muttered under her breath.

Sam stopped again and looked at her with slightly narrowed eyes.

Mercedes stopped too and looked back up at him and when she did, her expression softened with her tone. "I'm sorry. Look, I…I just don't like being tricked, and…I'm not some irresponsible teen who blows off my commitments with empty promises to my dad, saying that I'll do something and not do it.You have no idea what it's like. Having to live up to something and then you can't even do what you promised…sorry, I'm just rambling now."

For a split second, Sam felt like she was turning a mirror on him, but how could she possibly know about his delay on responding to colleges, let alone his relationship with his dad? He pushed aside that fear and skepticism and instead asked, "Is this about the chores again?"

"Yes, this is about the chores again," she replied, borderline exasperated.

He rolled his eyes, "I'm sure it's not as much as you're making it sound. But don't worry about that right now. We're here to have fun, and…I won't make you go in the lake if you don't want to. You can chill in the sun with the other girls."

"Chill in the sun?" she mocked. "You do realize that's an oxymoron, right?"

He opened his mouth to respond but quickly shut it, narrowing his eyes at her again.

Mercedes giggled softly and shook her head, walking ahead of him. _What a little smartass_, he mused, unable to stop himself from smirking as he followed after her.

While Mercedes situated herself on the grass, Sam introduced each of his friends to her. The girls waved in response, Finn cast a seductive smirk that hadn't escaped Sam's notice—_the hell was that? _he wondered—and Mike nodded, "'Sup?" to her.

He ignored Finn's greeting and picked up the volleyball sitting nearby, wandering away with Mike and Finn.

"Well, well," Finn quietly spoke. "You got her to come after all!"

Sam shrugged nonchalantly, "What did you expect?" Letting a bit of arrogance take over, he said to Finn, "Now are you planning to give your mom the heads up on graduation when you lose this bet, or are you gonna let her find out on her own?"

"Psh, whatever dude. You're gonna lose and you kn—heyyyy, check out Minnie Mouse! Looks like she's been hiding a nice little figure under all that crazy. I might be Jonesin' for some Jones! That's a little vixen I wouldn't mind getting to know." snickered Finn.

As his friend elbowed Mike, Sam turned around and saw Mercedes balling up her shirt in her hand and sticking it in her backpack. When she stood upright again, she was sporting a red halter pinup swimsuit. He picked up on Finn's Minnie Mouse reference, due to the polka dots that covered the suit, but holy hell was his friend right about her 'nice little figure'. She had beautiful curves and quite the busty chest that made it hard for Sam not to fully gape at her—eyes nearly out of their sockets, jaw slackened, tongue hanging out like Scooby Doo, the works.

"Y-…yeah," he feebly replied, still letting his eyes wander over all her curves.

Mike cut in, snatching the volleyball out of his hands and jolting Sam out of his private thoughts. "Alright are we gonna get this game started or stare at the girls all day?"

"I wouldn't be opposed to that, if you guys are willing to lose." Finn shamelessly stated.

Sam and Mike both rolled their eyes. "I'm game," said Sam. "Ask the girls so we can at least try to get three on three."

Mike trotted off and Sam and Finn watched. At first it looked like none of them were going to join. Santana and Brittany were too wrapped in one another to really acknowledge Mike's presence, Tina kept giggling at whatever he was saying to her and shaking her head, and Mercedes had her head bent over a notebook. But to his surprise, Sam saw Mercedes shut her notebook and stuff it into her backpack after Mike asked her if she wanted to join the game. Mike extended his hand and she willingly grabbed it. Sam admired that out of all the girls, she was the only one not making a major fuss over playing in the sun. Once the girls saw Mercedes leading the way, Tina stood up and followed them.Soon, Santana broke away from Brittany and joined the game, and Brittany volunteered to keep score.

{ }

It turned out that Mercedes was pretty awful at the sport, but her clumsy interactions with the ball had Sam laughing, and eventually she managed to laugh at herself. The first time she let out a peal of genuine, carefree laughs made Sam stop and stare at her. It was the first time he'd ever heard her laugh and the peals were so adorable and infectious that he found himself quietly chuckling along with her. And what surprised him more than hearing her laugh, was his reaction to Finn's flirty remarks to her. During the game, Finn had started calling her Minnie Mouse, which triggered smiles and eye-rolls from Mercedes. And even though he was on the opposing team with Mike and Tina he managed to slither his way on the other side of the net on several occasions to show Mercedes how to bunt. Sam ground his teeth at that and slyly told Finn off a couple of times—masking his annoyance by treating it like his words were all in the name of friendly game competition. The volleyball game, that is.

"You are so awful at this game Minnie Mouse!" Finn teased her. Sam pursed his lips and gulped when he realized Mercedes was letting loose and adding to the banter.

"Says the guy who fell twice now!" Mercedes giggled

"Oh baby, it was only because I was too busy looking at you!" Finn blew her a kiss and that was all Sam needed to see in order for him to feel the need to beat his friend into a pulp.

"Okay, that's enough volleyball I think" Sam shouted.

Mercedes looked over to Sam and smiled. Sam caught her smile and was about to walk over to her when Mike grabbed his shoulders.

"Good Game, kid. I'm so happy Mercedes got the girls to play. They're always such a drag!"

Mike went to help Finn with the net and Sam watched as Mercedes laughed at Finn's antics along with the girls.

"He's being such a ham right now." Sam muttered to himself. "Douche."

Once they all took a mini break, the guys decided it was time to take a beeline trip into the lake while Santana and Brittany resumed sunbathing. Tina sat at one of the docks and dangled her feet in the water.

"You coming?" she asked Mercedes.

Mercedes had started towards her notebook but froze. "Um…nah, I think I'll just stay over here. I've got tons of homework you know how it is."Mercedes shook her head at her own excuse.

"Aw come on, Mercedes!" called Sam, expertly keeping his head above water.

"Uh…no," Mercedes replied."

"Are you scared?" asked Sam.

She rolled her eyes, "I'm not gonna get baited by your childishness, Sam. Forget it."

"Ooookaaayyy, but I still think it's ridiculous that you're so scared. See it this way, if this lake has toxins in it, we'll both have two heads!" Sam chuckled, secretly hoping he was breaking the ice

"I'm not scared, I—I'm cautious, and I don't know how me and you walking around McKinley with two heads really helps in my decision**.**" she retorted, approaching the deck so she wouldn't have to keep yelling at him.

Sam scoffed swimming a bit closer to the dock, "Yeah whatever. You're scared. Admit it!"

"You're crazy."

"Just because I swim in a lake like most people my age?"

At that, Mercedes buttoned her lips. She stared down in the water, watching Sam slowly swim closer to the dock. Something glinted in his eyes and Mercedes hadn't missed it; she started to slowly back away while she warily asked, "What are you doing? Sam Evans? WHAT. . Doing?"

Sam just kept on swimming until he was bobbing near the area she stood. Right after flashing her a wicked smile, he proceeded to splash huge amounts of water at her—and Tina.

"Oh my God!" squealed Mercedes, cringing into herself at first, and then darting off the dock after she was already half-soaked. Tina stuck around and though she was surprised at first, she giggled at the splashing and watched Mercedes retreat.

By the time Mercedes knew she was safe from being splashed, she wiped her face and turned a glare on Sam. "You suck!"

Sam's laugh was booming around the lake, but when he saw Mercedes storm away, he swamto the edge and got out, all the while struggling to calm himself down.

"Mer-…Mercedes wait!" he urged in between his giggling.

She didn't say anything back; rather, she crouched near her backpack and looked for her shirt to use as a towel. After already dampening the shirt, she decided to just throw it back on and put her pants back on while she was at it.

"Mercedes," he chuckled, nearing her. "I'm sorry."

"Hardly, you really enjoy embarrassing me don't you?" she muttered back, zipping up her brightly-colored capris.

"No really! I just wanted you to have fun—I didn't think you were gonna be so mad. But if it makes you feel any better…it doesn't look like you're growing a second head." Sam pretended to inspect her head. "Nope, same cute little Mercedes head." That last bit was the most genuine he had been with her.

Mercedes pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose before meeting his gaze. Her heart fluttered at his flirtatious comment but she didn't pay attention thinking that's just how Sam Evans is."Ha, ha. That water's freezing. How do you guys stand it?"

She shivered, simultaneous to her eyes instinctively scanned over his fit form.

"I'm on the swim team, remember? I'm used to really cold water. But apparently you're not. Um…here…"

She watched him wander over to a red McKinley duffle bag and a moment later, he was walking back to her with a tan and red Letterman's jacket.

"Oh…no, it's okay," she said, raising her hands in surrender, "I'm fine."

"Mercedes your arms are covered in goosebumps. Just…" he stepped closer to her and slipped the jacket around her shoulders. Her hands came up to hold the jacket around herself but she noticed Sam was also still holding the jacket. He stared down at her and she returned the gaze.

_Why do I feel so nervous? Dammit heart, stop beating so fast!_ She internally fussed.

Out of nowhere, Sam let go of the jacket, and stepped back, returning her personal space. "You know…don't bite my head off for saying this, but…red really is a good color on you."

She tucked her lips in her mouth and when they appeared again she was casting a slight, bashful smile at the grass. "Thanks, Sam."

Not long after Sam loaned her his jacket, the group of seven decided to call it a the time things wound down, the sun had sunk halfway past the horizon and everyone had packed up and began heading back to their cars. Mercedes got pulled into a conversation with the rest of the girls and Sam was flanking her, smiling at the facts that she was speaking so casually with his friends, and that his friends were being friendly to her.

"Hey Minnie Mouse!" hollered Finn who was several paces ahead of the group. He'd turned around to face them all but was walking backwards.

"Hey Finn!" Mercedes mocked back with a smile. "What is it?"

"You comin' to S-Lo's pre-grad party tomorrow night?"

"Her parties are always fun," Mike said, looking at Mercedes.

Brittany chimed in, "Yeah Santana even throws me private parties after everyone leaves. She calls it a lady kiss mixer."

Sam, Mike, Mercedes and Tina all shared the same awkward expression in response to Brittany's words, but Santana merely shrugged and told Mercedes, "You're welcome to come if you want."

Mercedes looked around at the six pairs of eyes, waiting for her answer. She ended by staring at Sam and, spur of the moment she said, "Sure."

She watched a crooked smile break out on Sam's face and thought to herself, _Ugh there it is again. I wonder if he even knows how many girls get spellbound by that. He probably does…dammit he looks so good when he smiles like that though._

"Great!" piped up Finn, unknowingly jolting her out of her brief trance."I'll save you a dance."

As she watched Finn and Mike bid Sam farewell, she absent-mindedly tugged his Letterman's jacket a little more securely over her shoulders.

"See ya tomorrow, Mercedes!" said Tina, retreating backwards to Finn's Jeep with Mike. Brittany and Santana said their goodbyes to her right after, and wandered off to a different car. Mercedes then realized that it as just her and Sam. She looked up and saw him already gazing at her with the return of that smile she'd quickly grown fond of.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

She nodded, "Mhm."

At first, she'd been confused as to why he was following her to the passenger's side, but his actions made sense once he reached a hand out past her and opened her door for her. Mercedes clamped her lips down to tame her flattered smile and quietly mumbled, "Thanks, Sam."

He nodded in response and closed the door for her once she started on her seatbelt. Her brown hues watched him walk around to the driver's side, and a moment later they were heading to her home.

She and Sam spent the entire drive, trying to carry on a conversation with one another, but the conversations would start and quickly die into awkward silences. During the quiet moments, Mercedes stole subtle glances at Sam as he drove. A few times she caught him mumbling along to the songs on the radio, until he noticed her smiling at him and stopped.

"I wasn't laughing at you," she told him.

Sam chuckled once, "I know. I just…it's a habit of mine."

Her smile grew a fraction, "You sing?"

She expected Sam to immediately deny it but to her surprise, he shrugged and told her, "Mostly in the car or shower."

"Oh yeah?" she asked, smiling a little more. "Well, you're not so bad**…**You're just full of surprises, huh?"

The amusement on Sam's face faded a bit, "Um…yeah, I...I guess I am."

Her brows furrowed, wondering what she said or did to make his mood shift so suddenly. She didn't bother asking him but instead, she let the space between them lapse into another awkward silence for the remainder of the drive.

He pulled up in front of her house, making her pull out of her silence. "How'd you know where I live?"

Sam shrugged without hesitation, "This is a small town. You either live around here or in the 'burbs. Plus, isn't that your dad's car in the driveway?"

Her lips pursed from how right he was. "Well…thanks for the ride, Sam." She hated to admit the next part. "I…had a lot of fun."

"No problem. Thanks for coming today. Funlooks good on you," he replied with a soft smile.

She gazed in his eyes for a moment but quickly tore her gaze away, grabbing the door handle. "I uh…I'll see you later."

"Tomorrow, "he corrected.

Mercedes hesitated, standing outside the car door. "Um…about that…"

"You're not backing out, are you?"

"I have to get my chores done, Sam."

He nodded slowly and mocked, "Ahh, right. Well that's too bad considering you told Santana you were gonna come."

"She's not gonna miss me if I don't."

Sam sighed shortly, "Okay. See you later, Mercedes."

She closed the door and turned, heading to up the driveway with confusion. For some reason, she felt compelled to look back at Sam and when she did; he winked at her and pulled away, lifting his phone to his ear.

Her head shook as she turned back, took her keys out of her backpack and let herself in, but when she fiddled with her bag, Sam's Letterman's jacket fell away from her shoulders. Mercedes turned and looked down, picking the jacket up right away.

"Crap."

Her fingers curled into the soft interior around the collar and her other hand pushed the front door open.

"Hey kiddo!" she heard her dad say upon her return home.

"Hey," She replied, still staring at the jacket. Surely Sam must have known or noticed that she had the jacket on…right? A thought crossed her mind but she didn't want to let herself linger on the possibility that he purposely left it with her. No, he must have been too distracted to notice, just like she was. But if that was the case, what was distracting him? She could only think of herself, conceited as the thought seemed. She shook her head, trying to erase that possibility but the more she tried, the more she ended up thinking on it anyway. The possible idea that he wanted her to have it made her smile. But she didn't want to let him think that he'd baited her interest so easily. The jacket had to go back.

"Hey Dad? Can I borrow the car really quick? I just um…I just need to go drop something off real quick."

Mr. Jones blinked with a blank expression. "Um…s-sure, kiddo! What's up?"

Mercedes snatched up her set of keys and the jacket and said on her way out, "I just need to run a quick errand. I'll be back."

Her dad got out a, "Drive safe!" just before she shut the door.

It wasn't until she got to the upper crust neighborhood that she started to feel extremely self-conscious about her dad's hoopty of a car. Lima had only a few blocks of ultra prestigious, mansion-like homes; she figured her chances of finding the right one—based on Sam's Tundra—were high. She parked across the street from the driveway where Sam's Tundra was parked and got out. Her eyes couldn't help taking in the grand estate; for a family of three, the size seemed ridiculous. _Extremely_ ridiculous.

After reaching the front doors, she pressed the doorbell, drew in a deep breath and pushed her glasses up her nose as she waited for Sam or one of his parents to answer. What she didn't expect was for a brunette, bespectacled girl to be standing on the other side of the door.

"Um...can I help you?" spoke Lauren.

Mercedes blinked a few times, "I uh…Sorry, I must have the wrong house."

"Who are you looking for?"

She glanced down at the Letterman's jacket in her hand and said, "Sam Evans."

"He's here."

Mercedes' gaze snappedup, surprised and sure enough, she heard Sam's voice from inside the house.

"By the way, after Akuma's done kicking your ass, you can get started on my sundae. And no sprinkles!" From there she heard Sam's voice change, sounding amusingly similar to Stewie from Family Guy as he said, "For every sprinkle I find…I shall kill you."

"Psh, boy please!" she heard someone else say. The voice sounded vaguely familiar but she couldn't quite pinpoint it. "Chun-Li's got that bird kick—she gon' twirl her ass into the ground! Get ready to be my bitch!"

"Sam-Bam!" spoke Lauren.

"Yeah?" Sam called back.

"Get over here, big bro!"

_Akuma? Chun-Li? Wait—bro? Sam has siblings?_ She thought. Given his popularity around school, she would have figured she'd have heard about his siblings by now, or at least seen them following in their brother's popular path. The girl in front of her was someone she'd never seen around school, but she looked like she had to be in high school. And she called Sam big bro, but she couldn't have been _that _much younger than him. They didn't really share a resemblance but it looked like she had taken to dying her hair a near-black color, so perhaps she was a natural blonde like Sam.

Her opportunity to think any further on Sam's mysterious siblings vanished the moment Sam appeared at the front door. Mercedes blinked twice, doing a double take at what she saw, but she found herself smiling. Sitting in the middle of Sam's face was a narrow frame pair of eyeglasses. Upon seeing her, however, he snatched them off her face. He looked down at theat the wireless controller he was holding and he tossed it to the side, shaking his head at his own ridiculousness.

Mercedes couldn't' help the short giggle that left her lips, "Uh…it's a little late for that, don't you think? Then again, maybe you _should_ leave the glasses off. I mean…_your eyes are really beautiful_," she mocked with a sly smirk.

Lauren blinked, confused, but a second later she was slowly nodding her head, "Ohhhh _you _must be Mercedes." She grinned when Mercedes nodded, and stepped aside, with a hand extended towards the interior of the house. "Since my brother's apparently lost all ability to use some manners, come on in."

**A/N: Didn't see that coming, eh? Hmmmm so what's Mercedes to think now? **


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: why tried buying Glee on the black market but it just didn't work out so we still don't own it or it's characters. **

**A/N: Again, we can't thank you enough for all the support you guys have given us. Collaborating has been awesome and we seriously hope we do more of these in the future. So we are approaching a pivotal moment in the lives of these two kids. Care to gander? **

Dumbfounded was an understatement for how he felt, seeing Mercedes on his doorstep. He'd just dropped her off not half an hour ago and assumed he would have the rest of the night to unravel from the persona he donned to the outside world. He'd put his things away from the lake, switched out his contacts for his black, horn-rimmed eyeglasses and headed back downstairs for some overdue bro time with Artie. He helped his brother out of his wheelchair so they could sit on the couch together and then readied their PS3 for a Street Fighter tournament.

Now he was holding his controller and glasses behind his back, taking the mock jab she'd thrown at him. His cheeks were burning red; no one at their school, aside from Artie, knew that he wore glasses but more than that, no one at his school knew that he had siblings—until now.

He hadn't thawed from his frozen state until after his sister said, "Since my brother's apparently lost all ability to use some manners, come on in."

"In?" he accidently sputtered.

Mercedes stopped with one foot in and raised a brow at him, "Um…I don't have to. I just came to bring you your ja—"

"Yo! What's the hold up?" she heard Artie holler. "Who's at the door? If y'all are holding the pizza hostage, there's gonna be some major ass-kicking compliments of yours truly!"

Sam rolled his eyes and while he slipped his glasses in his back pocket, he turned his head to call back, "Cool your jets, it's not the pizza!"

"It's Merceeeedes!" answered Lauren in a sing-song voice.

Sam narrowed his eyes at the way his sister drew her name out.

"Say what? Someone come help me back in my chair. If hunnies coming to him, I need to see this for myself!"

Ignoring the heat on his face, Sam slapped his hand over his eyes and then dragged it down his face.

"On my way Artie!" chimed Lauren, making haste away from the door.

"So," spoke Mercedes, claiming his attention once more. "You have siblings."

When Sam brought his hand away from his face, he swallowed hard. "Um..yeah..just these two. Lauren goes to Crawford Country Day—my mom's alma mater."

"I can't believe Artie's your little brother," she replied. The stunned and amused look on her face made _that _pretty obvious.

"Uh… and Laur are twins. Fraternal."

Mercedes rolled her eyes. "Duh. Have you ever heard of identical boy-and-girl twins?"

"Ha, ha," he sarcastically said. "Listen, um…you can come in if you want."

"Of course she wants to!" Artie boisterously stated, emerging from the living room with Lauren at his side. He looked up at Sam, "Cat's outta the bag, bro. Might as well give her the grand tour or something."

Sam opened his mouth to reply but his brother wheeled right up to Mercedes and extended his hand. "Artie Evans, Ms. Pretty. Don't you look extra fine today? How _you _doin'?"

Mercedes rolled her eyes but also smiled, **"**Ahh spinning the best jams, king of swag, etc,etc?You're a mess with those morning announcements."

_What the hell?_ Sam balked internally. _First Finn, then Mike, now Artie. Why does all the stupid flirting charm her but she always looks at me like a bag of vomit? Okay not always, but a lot of the time!_

"So why do you go by Artie Abrams at school?"

With a shrug of his slender shoulders, Artie said, "Not many ladies get the privilege of knowing but since you're already in the know a little bit, I'll let you in on the deets: Arthur Abraham Evans is my full name. But since Mr. Big Shot over there," he jutted a thumb at Sam, "and I don't fly in the same flock, I decided 'why let people think I'm Sam two-point-oh when that is _clearly_ not how I roll. I'm way to cool for big bro if you know what I'm sayin'."

He wiggled his brows and wheeled his chair back and forth to emphasize his cheesy joke, which clearly worked on Mercedes since she giggled.

"That's kinda sad though," she said when her smiles lessened. "You guys don't even acknowledge each other at school? At all?"

Artie shrugged, "It is what it is, Baby Doll. But enough about us—I hear enough about him at school, just like I'm sure you do. But we don't know much about you."

Sam knew what his brother was doing and decided now was as good a time as any to intervene. He stepped up to his brother and Mercedes and pointed each of them out to each other, "Mercedes? ?Mercedes. Excuse us."

Without another word, he grabbed Mercedes' hand and led her to the stairs with hasty strides.

"Good thing the 'rents aren't around, Sam-Bam!" called his sister, "otherwise they might get the wrong idea—you taking a girl up to your room! Just leave the door open!"

He ground his teeth from his sister's teasing and nearly shouted, 'SHUT UP!' when he heard Artie loudly singing, "_I don't see nothing wrrooooong with a little bump 'n grind! _Be safe, kids!" Unintentionally, his hand squeezed Mercedes' a bit and he hadn't let go until they were locked inside his bedroom.

"Um…" when he turned to face her, her brows were raised high. "I hate to say it—seeing as your 50 shades of red right now, but your sister kind of has a point. Us being up here does sort of imply something…"

Sam shook his head, "You know I didn't bring you up here for that. It's just the only place around the house I know they can't come in."

Mercedes' brows furrowed. "Can't? No offense to your brother but…he can't come upstairs?"

Sam squinted in misunderstanding but rapidly relaxed his features, "Oh—no I didn't mean like that. There's a lift for him and his wheelchair."

"Oh." As she slowly started to make a full 360-degree turn about his room he heard her mumble, "Of _course_ there is."

He grimaced at her, "Seriously? You're gonna take digs at my family for being wealthy?"

Her head turned back to him and after staring a long time at the irritation carved deep in his face, she told him, "I'm sorry. That was misplaced."

"You think?" fussed Sam, pulling out his glasses before taking a seat on his bed. He finally set his PS3 controller and glasses down and looked at her with disdain.

Mercedes lips twitched a bit, "What I mean is, I didn't mean to make it seem like I was mad at you for being rich. If anything, I still don't understand why you'd hide your siblings from the school. They seem great."

"Contrary to popular belief, I'm not a celebrity at McKinley."

"Psh," she snorted in a very unladylike fashion, "You might as well be. People worship you like you piss excellence and if they were lucky enough they might be graced with your golden shower."

Sam paused, his entire face contorted, "….What?"

"I don't know!" she admitted with a faint, dry chuckle. "You're treated like a god, but you keep all these secrets. Like Artie and Lauren. And your glasses."

"So what if I don't wear my glasses at school?" he said indignantly. It was the only leg he had to stand on.

She clicked her tongue and sighed, "You're missing the point. You act like you're too cool for school, Sam. But you've got this…this inner nerd like it's this huge secret that would break you if anyone found out."

"I don't have an inner n—"

"Umm," she cut across, circling her index finger slowly like a helicopter. Captain America was standing proudly on a poster mounted on one wall, and just below the poster was a stout bookcase full of graphic novels and comic books of varying sorts. Sitting on top of his dresser on the other side of the room was a small telescope on a trivet, and above that was another poster of the Milky Way. A series of baseball cards were pinned in a long row above his headboard, and next to a wooden box was a toy model of the Starship Enterprise, as well as a Yoda action figure.

Sam buttoned his lips, unable to honestly finish his denial. He turned his stern gaze to the carpet and kept it there while Mercedes spoke up again.

"Not only that…but your poem the other week at Mike's Stand…" she slowly walked over and sat down on his bed. "It was really good. Surprisingly good."

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye and muttered, "Thanks."

"Why do you feel like you have to put on this…this image? What's wrong with letting people know you like wearing glasses and reading comic books. Or that your younger brother's different from you?I happen to think it's…"Mercedes paused, trying to get the right wording. "I think it's kinda cute."

The answer was there but he hesitated on sharing it. Instead he opted for turning the tables, "Well what's wrong with caring about appearances? I mean you like to dress like someone from the 90's. You wear your hair the same way," he pointed to her curly mane, "and you wear _your_ glasses all the time. And there's nothing cute about Yoda PJ's, trust me."

"That's because I hate contacts and I don't care about how I look. I mean it's not like I'm a slob or something—it's just that worrying over owning the latest…Versace dress or whatever isn't what's gonna get me by in my life. And when you have to start taking responsibilities for others…your own appearance tends to take a back seat. But you…you don't have responsibilities other than what you've put on yourself—like putting up a _front_ for the whole is who I am. I don't have to pretend to be anyone else. I don't have time or energy to do it and you know what? Right now, I take back my comment. You're right there's nothing cute about it at all." Mercedes crossed her arms, feeling a mix of frustration towards Sam and disappointment. How dare he turn the tables on her? He didn't know the first thing about her.

At this point he regretted turning the discussion on her. Was taking responsibility in reference to her brother being at McKinley now? Sam was pretty sure he was a Freshmen; was there something going on at her house? Once again he found himself unwilling to confess how much he was becoming invested in Mercedes and her life. On top of that, she was turning the mirror back on him and she had been right. He didn't need to keep up this façade of being the stud jock; sure it had its perks but what she didn't know was that most of it was morphed from the pressure put on him from his was also killing him how plain awful he was being to her at this point. He caught the cute comment and he should have taken it. He started to explain himself but Mercedes stood up, catching his attention again.

"Anyway," she spoke, pulling him out of his list of inquiries. "I really did just come by to bring you your jacket." She slipped it off her arm and left it by the foot of his bed. "I'll see you at school on Monday."

He watched her go to the door and at the same time the lock clicked, his spoke up again. "Mercedes?"

She turned around, "Yeah?"

"Are you really not gonna go to Santana's party tomorrow?"

She shook her head, "No. I'm really not. I have ch—"

"Chores to ." He glanced to his right and let his eyes linger on his glasses and controller beside him for several seconds. After picking them both up, he followed after her, slipping the glasses back on his face so he could see properly.

"Tootles, pretty mama," said Artie, closing the front door behind her.

_Damn she walks fast_, thought Sam. He stared at the closed door and then his brother.

"What was her hurry? You didn't really try and—"

"No!" Sam retorted sharply. "Geeze."

Artie's hands came up innocently, "Hey, I'm just sayin', she was hustling outta here like the quickness."

Sam shook his head, raising his eyes heavenward, "Where'd you learn to speak, little bro?"

"I could ask you the same thing—meanwhile I told you you were crazy. Miss Jones is a cute lil mama. And if I'm not mistaken, she might be a little into. Lucky bastard."

Sam's eye twitched. Something about the way Artie said that reminded Sam of the way Finn was ogling her earlier. But he tried to play it off coolly, "Whatever you say bro. Come on…let's get back to the game."

He walked over to wheel Artie back to the living room but his spot on the couch had been claimed by Lauren, who now had her cosmetology items spread out again. He started to un-pause the game but his fingers froze and his head turned in slow motion—a contemplative smirk appearing on his face.

"Hey Laur?"

"Hm?" she responded, micro-braiding her mannequin head.

"What are you doing tomorrow?"

She shrugged, "Mom and Dad won't be back till Tuesday so…probably just hanging out around here. Why?"

Sam's smirk spread into a grin, "I'm gonna need your help tomorrow before Santana's party."

He would make it up to Mercedes. Sam continued playing the game, not realizing that his intentions had changed a little. Was he still trying to get Mercedes to go to the party because of some bet or did he really want her there? Sam shook his head and smiled. He'd tackle those questions in the morning.

Mercedes struggled to fall asleep once she was home. She kept thinking about the discovery she'd made about Sam's sibling and love of all things geeky. It made her wonder just how well she knew Sam Evans—the big time jock, king of McKinley or the guy with two siblings he didn't acknowledge in public, poor eyesight like her, and a love of _Spiderman_ and _Star Trek_.

She didn't know when she finally closed her eyes but the next thing she knew, she was opening them to a fuzzy sunlit image of her curtains. She reached out for her glasses to bring her room into focus, left her bed and padded to the bathroom to brush her teeth and shower. Along the way, she heard murmurs downstairs and assumed her dad or Wade was watching T.V. After her shower and getting dressed, the murmurs started to sound less recorded and more…_alive_.

Brows furrowed, she trekked down the stairs in magenta skinny jeans and a loose, dark purple flannel shirt—her wild curls drawn back by a thin, yellow head scarf-turned-headband.

"Dad? Wade? What's going o—"

Everything verbal and physical about Mercedes halted for a moment. Her eyes went wide and her mouth fell open at the sight of Sam, Lauren, Artie, Kurt, and…

"Is this the football team?" she asked, squinting her eyes.

"JV," said Sam, gesturing to them, "and it's only half the team.I tried getting them all but it was kinda rough—"

"What the hell are they doing here? What are _you guys_ doing here?"

"Whoa," spoke Artie with his hands up. "Calm down, Cinderella. We're here to take you to the ball."

She looked at him like he was sprouting a second head. "Say what?"

Sam spoke up again, "You said you had chores right?"

"Riiiight?"

"Well the football team's here to is my apology for being such a jerk. And before you say anything about not having something to wear,Kurt and Lauren are here to help you get ready for the party."

"And I'm here to get a ride!" Artie proudly announced.

Mercedes brows rose to her hairline, and a moment later she propped her hands on her hips, "Your brother's letting you be seen with him? At a party?In public? Is the apocalypse near or?"

"Hardy har, har," muttered Sam, reaching in his back pocket. "Look…I thought a lot about what you said last night and…I'm gonna change." He revealed his horn-rimmed glasses and slipped them on over his eyes. "My contacts have been bothering me lately." Sam grinned at Mercedes, and she couldn't help but smile.

So yeah, Artie's coming with me. So's Lauren…_after_ your make-over."

"Makeover?"

Kurt chimed in, "Yep! I'm here to help with your wardrobe. We can't hide those curves forever."

"And I'm here for hair and make-up," said Lauren.

"Will you all just…hold on for one minute," Mercedes sharply asked, stepping away from Wade, Kurt and the Evans clan. She stepped backward a couple steps and quickly turned to dash back up the stairs to get her phone. Puck was on the phone in two rings.

"Ugh, who makes calls before noon on a Sa—"

"Noah Puckerman!" she harshly hissed. "Did you know about this? Because, if you did, you have plenty of explaining to do!"

Groggy, Puck asked, "Know about what?"

"Sam, Kurt and half the _foot_ball team are at my house so that I can go to this dumb party!"

"Whoa, he was serious…"

"You did know?" she shrieked, throwing her free hand up in the air. "Ugh! Puck _please_get your dad to schedule me for work or something so I can get out of this!"

"Uh…that's not exactly the brightest plan."

"Why not?" she vehemently demanded, pacing around her room.

"Do you remember where the party's supposed to be at?"

She went quiet, immediately holding her breath on what she didn't want him to say next.

"Yep great guess there. It's at Breadstix. And yes, the staff's already covered and no, I'm not going to ask my dad to squeeze you on the schedule just so you can get out of it, 'Cede."

Her pacing quit, "When did you decide to go all Benedict Arnold on me?"

"Since I realized that this guy's into you and you're coming up with every reason under the sun to push him away. And to answer your question, yes I knew but I'm not sorry for not telling you before. He said he felt really bad about something. Bro's got a thing for you. So what? Let them clean your house!Now will you get off the phone with me and just…get on with whatever he's planning to do to help you live a little?"

She took a long, deep breath and said, "Okay."

"…Okay?"

"I'm going to try and have a good time tonight."

"Oh. Good! Good. I'll see you later then."

Her brows furrowed, "You're coming to the party too?"

She could practically see Puck rolling his eyes from the other end of the line, "My dad owns the restaurant, 'Cede. What—am I gonna get kicked out?"

"Party crashing?" she asked with a chuckle.

"All part of my badassery, babe. Later!"

She stared at the phone when the line beeped to an end and then heard a few raps on her open door. At the door stood Lauren with her box of hair accessories and make-up products, and Kurt with several dress bags draped over his arm. Their items terrified her but she knew she wasn't going to the party without getting through them first. With a resigned sigh she plopped down on the bed, "Okay…let's get this over with."

Sam sat downstairs in a green dress shirt and dark blue jeans, fiddling with his glasses while waiting for Kurt and Lauren to finish up. After spending almost an entire day at the Jones' residence, the JV football members cleared off and Sam and Artie were left talking with Wade.

"And contrary to popular belief, Taffeta is the number one choice for wedding dresses. Silk is more of an old age, vintage thing as is lace. But not that shiny silk. That's just tacky. Taffeta is less costly, gives off a silky vibe and looks awesome on curves!"

Wade held up his sketches of Wedding dresses to Artie and Sam. Sam wished he had an ounce of an idea of what Wade was talking about. He was very talented but had no idea what Taffeta was. It sounded like candy and it made him hungry.

"Oh word? I didn't know that. So Taffeta is that crunchy material, right?" Artie looked genuinely interested and even looked over every sketch. Sam admired that about his brother. He adjusted easily in every setting. Sam bowed his head thinking about how selfish he had been for hiding his family. Artie was cooler than he was and he couldn't believe he would ever purposely marginalize him.

"Taffeta CAN be crunchy but not all. It's too crunchy, it's probably poor quality but I've seen some crazy things on the runway." Wade looked over to Sam. He seemed lost in thought. He placed all his sketches on the table, one next to the other and tapped Sam's shoulder.

"Huh? Oh, sorry, Wade. Just thinking about this test on Monday. What's up?"

"Well, I was discussing dresses with your brother Artie. I want to send two sketches off to the young designer competition. Artie helped me pick this one made out of taffeta. It's a great choice. Is there one you like in particular?" Wade asked eagerly, trying to get Sam involved in the conversation.

Sam pushed his glasses, crossed his legs and started picking up sketches. "Well, let's see here" He said in his most serious tone, invoking a chuckle from the two boys. "Ahhh well, Mr. Jones these are all wonderful but I want you to tell me why we should invest in your designs."

Wade's lips turned into a huge smile and his eyes brightened. "It's a cost effective way for women of all sizes to have the chance at finding their wedding dress of their dream" He nodded proudly at his pitch.

Artie nodded and clapped. "That was marvelous, just marvelous."

The three boys laughed and Sam noticed a particular sketch. He picked it up and showed it to Wade. "This one. It's really nice. Definitely enter this one."

Artie nodded his head in agreement. "Lace, bold choice, sir."

Wade smiled and took the sketch from Sam. "Funny that you chose that one."

"Why's that?"

"The inspiration behind it was my mom…"

The front door opened and Mr. Jones came bustling through the door.

Sam and Artie turned their heads and Wade immediately stood up to meet his father's clueless gaze.

"Um…these your friends, son?"

"Something like that, Dad. They go to the same school as me. This is Artie and Sam Evans—they're taking Mercedes to a party tonight."

"You've got a nice house, Mr. Jones," said Sam in an attempt to make small talk.

Mr. Jones instantly smiled, "Thanks! Um…sorry but which are you?"

"Dad!" fussed a horrified Wade.

"It's okay Wade. It's Sam, sir. Sorry for the…intrusion."

"I guess I should be mad, huh?" chuckled Mr. Jones. "Anyway, it's nice to see Wade with some friends. And yeah this house was a keeper. Least that's what my wife always said."

"She's got good taste," noted Sam, his eyes taking in the warm and now clean space that deeply contrasted his own cold, show-offy home.

"She did," replied Mr. Jones with a few absent nods.

Sam's brows rose, "Did?"

"Bro," Artie muttered in warning.

Sam realized too late that his curiosity shouldn't have been voiced. Wade's head lowered and the light left Mr. Jones' eyes.

"Um…I guess I shouldn't be too surprised that Mercedes didn't tell too many of her friends. She really only hangs out with Puck…sometimes Kurt, but my wife passed away about two years ago."

Sam almost missed the end of Mr. Jones' explanation, with how rapidly the elder man's voice faded to wordlessness. He now knew why his brother verbally nudged him and wished he'd received it sooner. After forcing his gaze to the floor, much like Wade, he whispered, "I'm sorry…"

Guilt filled him to the brim, causing him to fidget even more than when he first sat down. He couldn't believe it; Mercedes was looking out for her brother, working, helping out at home and going to school. Yet he was busy denying his siblings and making fun of Mercedes for how she was, or how he _thought _she was. After the longest and most uncomfortable stretch of silence, Sam heard multiple sets of feet thumping down the stairs. He stood up from the couch, tugged anxiously on his green dress shirt and walked around Artie's chair just as Lauren and Kurt reached the landing.

"Gentlemen," spoke Lauren. "Kurt and I are proud to present…"

"The new and fashionably-improved…Mercedes Jones!"

Sam stared towards the stairs but no one appeared at the top landing.

"Merceeedeeeess," crooned Kurt.

"Mercedes Jones, get your cute butt down here!" Lauren ordered.

Wade giggled; Sam rolled his eyes and Artie grinned.

"Come on, pretty mama! I got some DJ-ing to do tonight!"

A moment later, Mercedes stepped up hesitantly in a red, sleeveless cinched dress with an empire waist and a flowing skirt. Lauren pressed her large curls so that they now lay flat, spilling down either side of her face

Sam's eyes drank up her make-over. Though he had grown to dislike her glasses less, seeing her without them opened her face up. On top of that, seeing her frizzy curls tamed by flowing, feathery soft locks made her look angelic.

"I told them I'd try the contacts," she muttered, watching her steps in her heels."If they bug me too much, my glasses are in my purse and will be put back on. I guess it's the least I can do since you have to suffer wearing those"Mercedes pointed to Sam's glasses and chuckled

"Mercedes you look…" he drew in a breath, searching for the words.

"Fine?Foxy?Sexy? All things gorgeous?" offered Artie.

Lauren nudged him and Sam cast her a grateful gaze.

"You look beautiful, Mercedes," Sam finally told her. He bent his elbow towards her and asked, "Ready?"

She stared at his arm and then back up at his face. She shook her head at him smiling and said, "Let's go."

Mercedes turned heads when she stepped into Breadstix beside Sam. She wasn't sure what shocked them more—her arriving with her make-over, her arriving with Sam, or Sam showing up with her, Artie, Kurt and Lauren. Murmurs began almost immediately but Artie wheeled past them and switched out the current music for his own playlist. With the transition in the tunes came a shift in the atmosphere. Santana barged her way through the crowd and slowed to a stop in front of Mercedes, Sam and the others.

"Well, well—hey Trouty. Nice specs."

"Hi Santana," replied Sam.

Mercedes cast him a slightly smug smirk, certain that Santana wasn't being sarcastic about her comment on his glasses.

"And look at you, Mercedes. Mind if I borrow your date, Evans?"

A flutter hit Mercedes' heart when she was referred to as his date. She'd never been anyone's date before, except the few times her and Puck attended middle school dances together. That, obviously, never gave Mercedes the feeling she now had.

"Go ahead," Sam casually replied.

"Thanks, Guppy Lips!"

The next thing she knew, Mercedes was being dragged away by Santana who proceeded to compliment her make-over in a very shoddy Santana fashion.

"Woooooooo! Party in here! Woo! Woo!"

All heads turned towards the Breadstix entrance to see Quinn Fabray on the arm of D-List celebrity, Cooper Anderson. The loud-mouthed actor was shooting his index finger throughout the room, mumbling compliments and critiques to the people he passed.

Mercedes stood on her toes, looking over heads to see what all the fuss was about. At the sight of Cooper and Quinn, she rolled her eyes and looked back to Santana.

"Oh damnit," spat Santana. She then leaned close to Mercedes, "I meant to revoke her invitation. Ugh…"

Mercedes' brows rose. "I thought you two were friends."

"Things change. Especially when prom rolls around and a certain blondie has nothing better to talk about than her new infamous boyfriend. I swear I could choke on all her blather which is another reason I'm glad you're here. You know how much of a breath of fresh air you are to the group."

"The group?"

"Yeah? You're here with Sam... You hung out with us at the lake yesterday? And you did it with a 'no fucks to give' attitude. If Sam's serious about getting with you, then I'd say he's the lucky one. Although you made out pretty nice with this make-over." Santana touched a thick bunch of her hair.

Mercedes chuckled dryly, "Thanks."

She didn't want to admit that she kind of liked the change to her hair, if nothing else.

Eventually she was relinquished from Santana's attention and migrated back to Sam, Lauren and Kurt. To her surprise, when she reached them, she found them—or rather, Lauren—talking with none other than Puck. Mercedes smiled with a huge wave of relief at the sight of him. He kept tugging on his black tie and let Lauren tease him about his slow-growing Mohawk.

"You look like you're paving a road down the middle of your head."

Mercedes giggled, making her presence known. "Shouldn't you be working?"

"Whoa, 'Cede!" said Puck lighting up more than what was already showing in his face. "And my dad's here tonight so...I get extra breaks. But damn, look at you!"

She did a little twirl for him and when she came back around, she caught Sam staring down at her, though not at her face. She followed his gaze to the v-neckline of her dress and flickered a dark gaze back at him, flushed. "You have no shame, do you?" she asked.

"What?" he smiled sheepishly. "I was just—"

"For the love of God, please don't finish that sentence. I know what you were just doing." Her head shook and she smiled faintly at him. "Anyway, what were you guys talking about? Besides Puck's attempted 'hawk, I mean."

She looked back to her friend who was now blushing but steeled himself with a cocky gaze.

"Well," interjected Sam, "We were all talking about seeing the _Avengers_ movie opening weekend. Would you wanna come?"

"Me?"

Sam chuckled, "Yeah, who else am I talking to?"

She cast a close-lipped smile. "I'll think about it."

When Sam rolled his eyes at her, her smiling lips parted, "What?"

"Why can I never get a straight answer from you?"

"Because I don't have limitless amounts of time. How about this: if I'm free, I'll go."

He nodded, "I'll take what I can get, Ms. Jones."

She gazed bashfully at the floor, ignoring Puck's jeering and elbowing.

"Umm, excuse me waiter!" spoke a snarky voice. "I want another diet Coke. This time, I'd really like a lime wedge."

The group of five turned and saw Quinn standing directly behind them. She was staring haughtily at Puck but her gaze immediately gravitated to Mercedes where she regarded her with the utmost disgust.

"What are you doing here?"

Mercedes flinched and narrowed her eyes a fraction. "I was invited."

"Really?"

"Yes."

Quinn cut her vicious gaze on Sam, she let out a small smirk and licked her lips "Oh I see. Did you invite her, Sammy? Tell me this isn't a pity date."Quinn pretended to pout. "You're _that _desperate?"

"Who I bring to parties with me stopped being your concern when you dumped me, Quinn. Now, if you excuse me, I promised Mercedes a dance." Sam took Mercedes' hand and Quinn interjected.

She clicked her tongue and sighed, and then froze with a growing smile. "_You_ wear glasses? Oh my God did you guys switch roles?" Quinn looked away from them and called out, "Santana you didn't tell me it was a costume party!"

"Oh really?" spoke Mercedes, unintentionally drawing all eyes on their group. She freed her hand from Sam and propped both on her hips. "You could've fooled me 'cause it looks like you came dressed as total bitch. Or is Halloween just year-round for you?"

Several people around them "Ooooo"'d lowly, waiting for Quinn's retort.

"Excuse me?" demanded Quinn.

Mercedes cocked a brow in response, but her expression quickly transformed when Quinn made the very conscious decision to pour what remained of her diet Coke down the low-cut neckline of her dress.

"Oh! Oh! Ooops! Damn, I'm _soo_ sorry!" drawled Quinn in the most obvious sarcastic voice.** "**Let me make something clear to you, okay?" the blonde hissed, gritting her teeth. "All the make-up in the _universe _won't change what an ugly Lima Loser you are. We have a world here, and you don't belong in it. So why don't you go, cry home to your mom, and when you come back to school on Monday, feel free to resume your loner status, okay?"

Mercedes breaths trembled despite her attempts to steel herself. All eyes were on her and She could feel the tiny stinging in her eyes and clinched her arms close to her sides to keep from shivering from the ice and soda trickling down her front. Slowly she backed away from Quinn's sharp glare. After a few steps of space was between them, Mercedes quickly turned on her heels, nearly bumping into someone and pushed her way out of the restaurant.

From behind she heard 's booming voice ask, "What's going on here?" but she didn't turn back. She didn't speak and she didn't acknowledge Sam's voice calling her name at her retreating back. All she wanted was to be away from everyone who might see her cry.

"Don't let them see you cry," she kept repeating to herself, running out into the parking lot. Mercedes's hell caught onto a crack in the pavement and she fell to the ground. Her tears were coming full force and she was far away enough to let them.

**A/N: That last part had us both in tears. We seem to be in the same angsty mood so apologies. Lol! Well, what did you enjoy in this chapter? It pained me to make Quinn a villain because we love Quinn so much but it worked well with the premise. Hehe let us know what you think in the reviews! **


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Bri and I have decided, we ****_could _****own glee but after the madness that has gone done via Ryan Murphy's tweets , (someone please take his twitter away from him), we don't want to. We kinda like it in fanfiction land. So, we don't own glee or it's characters. (thank God) **

**A/N: hey so here is the new update! *parties* Sorry it took long. Blame me (Gina). I've been running around like mad and also trying to update my other fics but have no fear, here is a nice lengthy chapter for ya'll. Be kind, review! ( I wish that rhymed) **

"Mercedes, wait!" called out Sam.

He'd only been vaguely aware of the owner's authoritative voice, demanding to know what was going on, as he pushed his way through the crowd to follow after Mercedes. He knew Quinn could be cruel when she wanted to be, but hearing her call Mercedes ugly struck a nerve. And worse, hearing Quinn foolishly tell Mercedes to go home to the mother that no longer lived—that left a painful pulsing pain straight from Sam's heart. He didn't know what it was like to lose someone so close to him, but as he was growing to know Mercedes more, he could gather that her mom was important to her, in life and posthumously.

Once out in the chilly night, he looked around urgently until he spotted Mercedes on her hands and knees—one of her heels without a owner—and her head bowed. Her new hairstyle curtained her face from him but he hurried to her side and crouched down, reaching out without even thinking twice.

She immediately flinched away and chocked back a sob, "Don't touch me."

"It's me, Mercedes," Sam whispered feebly, wondering if his presence would make a difference to her or not. She'd probably prefer Puck or Kurt right now since he was technically part of that "World" Quinn spoke of.

"I…I shouldn't have come," breathed Mercedes, right before a deep sniffle.

"Mercedes, I—"

She raised one hand, palm side up and Sam immediately went quiet, grimacing at her hidden face.

"I swore…I swore to myself…that no one…at our school…would ever see me cry."

Despite her vow, Sam could see her back bowing every so often with her quiet sobs.

"Why?" he asked. "Why don't you want anyone at our school to see you cry."

"Because," she replied without hesitation. After a couple of sniffles, she reached up and wiped her eyes, and then raised her head to look at Sam. "You think I don't know what you and your friends, or anyone else at the school says about me? Why shouldn't I act like I can take it? Why let anyone who doesn't even know me, get the satisfaction of seeing their words get to me? When I act the way I act, do you think it comes natural? I have to force this exterior. Ever since my mom died, I had to become this whole other person, so that no one…nothing could ever hurt me again. I didn't _want _to leave that party because I wasn't having fun, it was because I couldn't stand it if everyone saw me in tears. Do you even know what that's like, Sam?"

Sam didn't have an answer. He couldn't deny to her face that he never had any part in the teasing and name-calling; in fact he thought back to just the other week when Finn named her his target for the bet, and how he called her a hippie glee geek feminazi—and that was one of the kinder insults of many, spouted amongst him and his friends. Guilt hit him like ton of bricks, and seeing Mercedes look him full in the face with tears streaking down her from the corners of her eyes made his heart ache. He felt a strong urge to make things right with her—to take the tears away. The bet was momentarily forgotten as he reached up and hesitantly ran a thumb beneath her eyes. She flinched away at first but allowed him to do the other side while he asked, "Can I make this up to you?"

After another sniffle she shook her head, "No, I knew I shouldn't have come and I'm not about to re-live it—"

"Not that's not what I mean. I meant…" he stared at the ground trying to figure out whether or not he should ask or simply say it. He opted on the latter once his green irises looked at her face again. "Come have dinner at my house. Next Friday. You wouldn't have to worry about Quinn or anyone else from school being there—except Artie but I don't think he's got anything against you, last time I checked."

His small attempt to make her smile worked. She stared at the ground and smiled one weak smile for only a second but it was enough to make Sam hopeful.

"I'll think about it."

He sighed one breathy chuckle and repeated, "Never getting a straight answer from you."

"No offense, Sam but now's not a time I wanna be agreeing to a…a date."

His cheeks instantly prickled with heat when she called his dinner invitation a date. Technically she was right—it did seem like something of a date, even if it wasn't going to just be the two of them…

"About that…"He rose to his feet and offered a hand to help her. When she accepted, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose again and went on to say, "Um…my parents might be there too."

Her brows rose and while she wiped away the last of her tears she shrugged and faintly smiled again, "That's fine. I'll get to meet the folks responsible for Artie's crazy-funny self."

Sam chuckled once, dryly, "Heh, yeah." _Easy for her to say_, he thought. _They're not responsible for anything when it comes to Artie unless it's my Mom trying to kill her guilt by smothering him_.

For a moment it seemed like his thoughts were no longer internal; Mercedes regarded him with clear confusion, and just as he got ready to open his mouth and tell her 'nothing', the double doors to Breadstix opened again and their classmates began trickling out, murmuring either about something being 'lame' or Mercedes' 'bitch costume' remark to Quinn. Midway through the parade of fleeing teens, Quinn and Cooper sauntered out with a small entourage of Cooper Anderson admirers, tailing him with requests for his autograph and pictures with him. He was obliging to each and every one, and the only thing to give Sam satisfaction about seeing Quinn tonight now, was that she looked blatantly upset by all the attention her D-List boy toy was getting.

Not far behind their crowd came Artie and Lauren. Artie wheeled himself out and spotted Sam and Mercedes in no time; Meanwhile Lauren was lagging due to her eyes being glued to her cell phone.

Sam arched his brow at the goofy, 'I have a crush' smile his sister was wearing but was momentarily halted from asking her about it when Artie spoke up.

"We thought you guys left us here. Puck 's been trying to call your phone, Ms. , big dude? Grey hair? Is that Puck's dad?"

Mercedes immediately frowned, "Thanks Artie. I better go find Puck and let him know I'm okay. And yeah, that's Mr. Puckerman. Why?"

"Oh well, he kind of threw us all out. He was piiiiisseeddd!" Artie said surprisingly happily. "Don't blame him, though."

Mercedes smiled faintly thinking about how Mr. Puckerman was like her second father, always looking after her. The little scene that Quinn Fabray created was probably not to his liking.

"I should go talk to them," Mercedes said to her friends.

"Okay," said Sam. "We'll wait for you in the truck."

She shook her head, "It's fine—I can catch a ride home from Puck."

Something protective or jealous made Sam say, "I can take you though."

All three pairs of eyes regarded his possessive tone with suspicion, causing him to immediately back-track. "I mean…we all came together—we should leave together. Besides, even though Quinn decided to screw things up, I still wanna end the night right."

Mercedes shook her head slowly again but this time she gave him a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "It's fine, Sam. It's one less trip for you and your siblings—you can just go straight home." She reached out and put a hand on his upper arm, sending a weird sensation through his body.

"I'll see you on Monday. Bye Artie, Lauren," she said with a small wave and even smaller smile. Once she turned and left, Sam caught Artie still staring with his suspicious gaze; Lauren lowered her eyes to her phone again.

"Girl who are you texting?" asked Artie.

Sam's brows furrowed, "Yeah I was just about to ask the same thing."

"None of your business," Lauren replied. "But what happened with Mercedes?"

"Yeah, now that is our business," Artie decided.

As the three Evans siblings started towards Sam's Tundra, he asked, "Since when?"

"Since you invited us to her house this morning, and had Lauren help give Hot Mama a makeover. Don't get me wrong—homegirl looks all sorts of fine but I'm telling you bro, she looked just as good before."

"I know," Sam muttered before he could stop himself. When he realized it was spoken aloud, he avoided the wide stares his siblings were giving him and tried shifting the subject. "Listen, I invited her over for dinner Friday."

"Say what now?"

Lauren opened one of the rear passenger doors and Sam crouched to help Artie out of his chair, "Yeah. Things didn't really go all that great tonight in case you hadn't noticed so I invited her over to make up for it."

"Okayyyy?" said Lauren, "But….why dinner _at the house_?"

Sam took a deep breath and started folding up Artie's wheelchair, "I'm hoping Mom and Dad will be busy like they usually are. Then it'd just be the four of us."

Lauren laughed openly in Sam's face. "Yeah well we'll see how that works out."

Early Monday at school, Puck had been trailing Mercedes asking her about the party, prior to Quinn's juvenile act.

"Ugh," she groaned, "Can we please just not talk about Saturday as if it never happened?"

"Uh, no?" replied Puck. "For one it did happen. And two in case you hadn't noticed every dude at this school's been eye fucking you up and down the halls."

She sighed, "I promised Kurt I'd give some of these new outfits a try this week. Never made any promises about my classes."

"Who cares? Your hair and stuff's giving you a sexy nerd look."

Mercedes face scrunched up as she giggled and swatted Puck's arm," Sexy nerd? Now I know you've lost your mind."

"Lookin' good, Mercedes," someone mumbled in passing.

Mercedes' laughs cut off and she looked back to see one of the baseball players' Letterman jacket-clad back retreating from her. When she turned back around she shook her head and went to carry on her conversation with Puck on how she was going to humor Kurt for the week, but again she was caught off guard by another compliment from a passerby.

"…What is going on?" she muttered warily to Puck.

"I told you—you've got it going on now, 'Cede!"

Puck wiggled his brows and nudged her with his elbow a couple of times; she pushed his elbow and hissed, "Stop that."

"What's crackin', Titans?! Did my birthday come early this year? 'Cause I got all kinds of goodies this morning. First up—the countdowns continue for you dinosaurs. Get it? Anyway, We're looking at 4 more weeks til prom and 6 more weeks til the seniors take their final walk through the McKinley halls! And then we all know I'll be ruling this school so you best respect the king of nerd swag! Next up? Prom proposals! Think you're brewing the best of the best? Share your stories here! Winner of the best one gets two free tickets to prom this year. I'm predicting a free ride to prom might go to those crazy lovers on Rileystreet. Amber baby? Chord says that you just say the funniest things that make his day. You two are giving me cavities!Next, senior ditch day—seniors beware, Figginsain'tplayin' around this year. Last year's seniors took 3 ditch days and he's having NONE of that this year!" Artie chuckled, "If a bunch of y'all skip more than one day, he's threatening to suspend the prom this year. Yikes! Don't let those pretty dresses and ugly suits go to waste! And speaking of all this prom buzz, Firecracker Fabray might wanna watch her step. There's a new nominee in town and word on the street is, she's got a good chance of stealing your tiara without even trying! Damn! Well homegirl should know she's already got _my_ vote! Congrats to the Hot Mama, Mercedes Jones!"

Mercedes skidded to a halt in the middle of the hallway—eyes wide, hand clamping Puck's arm for support. "What?!"

"Best of luck to ya, babydoll! Enjoy your day boys and babes!"

When Artie's voice cut from the intercom, Mercedes looked up at Puck, "Who the hell would nominate me?"

Puck was regarding her like a proud parent, or an overjoyed older sibling, "Who cares?! The point is, you are and according to Artie, you've got a good change of kicking Quinn's ass!"

"How? And why?"

He shrugged, "Dunno. Maybe it was you telling her off at the party?"

Mercedes snorted and rolled her eyes, "Everyone already knows she's a bitch—I didn't say anything new."

"I dunno, 'Cede but look around you!"

She did and was again taken aback by what she was seeing. People from various cliques were hanging up posters and fliers, telling the student body to vote for Mercedes Jones for prom queen. Someone had scanned and blown up her yearbook picture from last year to use on the posters, and now several others in the hall were staring at her—either with admiration or confusion of their own. Finally she turned her attention back to Puck, "How much do you wanna bet Sam had something to do with this?"

"Why? Isn't he supposedly going to prom with Quinn?"

"I don't know. I doubt it after she made fun of him for wearing glasses. Besides she's dating Cooper Anderson." She mulled things over for a few seconds before asking, "You think he's trying to bump me into the spotlight now for prom votes?"

Puck shook his head, "No offense, 'Cede but guys don't usually care about prom crap—not winning a Party City crown at least. But I told you that guy likes you. Quit being so suspicious of him already."

"Yeah, yeah," She said though deep down she agreed with Puck's words. She just hated admitting that she was falling for Sam. He'd been sweet and funny and caring towards her in his own way, and he seemed genuinely invested in making up the turn of events from Breadstix.

"I'll catch you later, okay?" said Mercedes, turning and fleeing from Puck. She hurried her way through the hall, hoping to find Sam in the quad before the morning bell rang. Sure enough, he was grouped around Finn, Mike and was back to wearing his contacts today but she decided not to give him a hard time about it. When she approached she was immediately welcomed and congratulated by the group.

"Even though we all know that crown belongs to me, I'm happy for you, Mercedes," said Santana.

As Mercedes started to thank Santana, Santana's phone beeped loudly, indicating a text. She checked and let out an exasperated sigh. "Oh great."

"What's the matter, hot stuff?" asked Finn.

She held up her phone, "Quinn. 911 text."

"911 text?"

Santana rolled her eyes, "We send them in emergency situations. Ugh I don't have time for her petty ass but she'll blow my phone up like a fucking parade balloon if I don't at least see what's up. Catch you guys later."

"Yeah, Mike and I have practice later but Mercedes? I didn't get to tell you last night how ravishing you looked. Really, I mean, I always knew you were a knockout but damn! Oh and one more thing, I'm pretty sure you're going to win." Finn winked and smiled widely at Mercedes.

"Thanks, Finn." Mercedes said softly.

Sam looked away to avoid anyone noticing the obvious jealousy splattered across his face.

They all said their farewells and a moment later, Finn and Mike were peeling away from the group to head to class, leaving Mercedes alone with Sam. She looked up at him, "So…"

"So," he echoed back, beaming that crooked smile at her.

She smiled too and said, "I thought about your dinner invitation.

His brows rose and she saw the hope rise up his face. "You have?"

"Yep. And my answer is 'yes'."

"Really?!"

"If…"

He dropped his head slightly and then looked back up at her smiling anxiously, "If?"

"You promise me you had nothing to do with me getting nominated for prom queen."

She watched him give her a skeptical look, "You're serious?"

Her arms folded, saying nothing aloud though her physical actions were enough of an answer.

Sam sighed, "No, I had nothing to do with you getting nominated. I promise. People were buzzing about your appearance at the party before I got to school this morning."

It was her turn to look surprised and a bit skeptical, "Really?"

"Really. Why is it so hard for you to believe that you're a great person?"

She snorted, "Do we need to go back over that conversation in the parking lot, Saturday?"

He tucked his lips in his mouth and shook his head.

"So I'll see you Friday at your place?"

Sam nodded, smiling again. "Yes. And hey, let's have lunch sometime this week?"

To tease and continue with her vague responses to him she smiled and waltzed away telling him, "We'll see."

At her back she heard Sam call out, "You're cruel, Ms. Jones!" but she could hear the amusement in his voice as he said it and it made her smile the entire way to class.

Friday came in no time. It seemed like their senior year had flown by so fast. They were looking at nearly 3 weeks til prom now but Mercedes had opted not to care much about the hype around school over her "battle" for prom queen against Quinn. Quinn's 911 text ended up being her meltdown over Cooper dumping her the night of the party—right in front of her house after dropping her off from Breadstix. Santana seemed happy to report back to Finn, Sam, and Mike with the news but her joy over Quinn's sorry was extinguished the moment Quinn caught wind of her new prom rival.

The one, who surprised her the most, was Finn Hudson. Quickly becoming her campaign manager, he was directing all her schoolmates that had volunteered to make cupcakes, buttons, pens, and even notebooks with her name and face on them. The end of the school day on Friday meant Mercedes was about to have the weekend to avoid prom chatter, campaign posters, and slushie threats from Quinn's proponents. And lthough Finn's energy in promoting her campaign was very flattering, Mercedes had only one thing on her mind the whole week: the inevitable meeting with the Evans'. To her own surprise she'd been looking forward to her dinner date with Sam and his siblings.

After dumping possibly every piece of clothing she owned, Mercedes threw herself on her bed and screamed into her pillow. Her father was just passing her bedroom when he heard her and knocked on her door. When she didn't answer, he poked his head in and his eyes widened in sheer horror at the usually clean room. It looked like a tornado had struck and there was no signs of the floor. "Princess? Are you alright?"

Mercedes shook her head into the pillow. "Don't worry dad. I'll clean this up."

Mr. Jones walked into the room, avoiding stepping on any his daughter's wardrobe and sat next to her. He softly caressed the back of her head, crossed his legs and smiled. "Now, does this have anything to do with a little meet the parents session planned for tonight?"

Mercedes couldn't help but giggle and threw her pillow at her father. "How did you know about that?"

Mr. Jones laughed, admiring his daughter smile, thinking it had been way too long since he had seen that expression on her face. It bothered him slightly that a boy was the reason behind that but he figured he'd take what he can get. "Well, considering your phone is off and Kurt has left about 8 messages on our answering machine until Wade finally picked it up and they've been talking about it for about an hour, it's pretty easy to get information around here."

Mercedes groaned and sat up. "Dad, I have nothing to wear and I just wanted to do this alone. No makeover, no crazy fake eyelash debacles and I thought I could but as you can see, I'm failing!" Mercedes waved her hands over her bedroom floor and laughed.

Her father nodded her head in agreement. "Well, you're in luck, Miss Jones because I happen to be an expert at meet the parents fashion."

Mercedes couldn't contain her laughter as it boomed in the room. She gently laid her head on her father's shoulder and smiled. "Oh yeah? So what should I wear, Daddy?"

Mr. Jones' heart nearly stopped at his daughter's vulnerability. Daddy. She was calling him daddy. He put one hand on her leg and breathed in. "How about that dark blue dress your mom got you two years ago? With the white trim on the waist? And…." Mr. Jones looked around and pointed to a pair of flats. "Your white shoes over there?"

Mercedes' face lightened up and she kissed her father's forehead. She ran into her closet and pulled out the cute spring, lacey blue dress her mother had gotten her for her singing competition. "It's perfect" She whispered, admiring the dress in her mirror. "It's perfect!" She yelled from the closet to her father.

Mr. Jones chuckled and stood up. "My work here is done, then." He made his way to the door when Mercedes ran out of the closet to him and wrapped her arms around him. "Thanks daddy."

The two stood in their much needed embrace for a while until her father pulled away. "Now get ready young lady."

"I got it!" Lauren yelled.

"No! I've got it!" Artie screamed over his sister.

The two fought over the doorknob when Sam walked over to them, arranging the collar on his shirt. "Do I look okay?"

"You look fine" They both said in unison.

Sam rolled his eyes at his feuding siblings and placed his big hand over the door knob. "I think _I_ should answer the door."

With that, the twins pulled back and watched as their older brother welcomed Mercedes. Sam opened the door and was pretty sure he was drooling. Mercedes smiled, bowing her head, and straightening her dress. "Do you like it? My mom got it for me. A while ago."

Sam was speechless. Mercedes Jones stood before him, wearing her black rimmed glasses, dark blue lace, spring dress with a white waist trim, and white flats. Her hair looked beautiful, the thick curls falling on her shoulders. She wasn't wearing much make up; just some black eyeliner above her eye and nude lip gloss. Her cheeks had a natural blush to them and for the first time, Sam Evans saw Mercedes Jones in her natural, beautiful, state—no makeovers, no dramatic change. And although the dress from the other night was sexy, he couldn't help but appreciate this side of her more. Was this what he was missing? Feeling a mix between guilt and admiration, Sam gulped. "I…it's...you." Sam chuckled. "I've never had trouble with words. You look…beautiful."

Mercedes cheeks flushed as Sam took her hand and brought her into his house. Artie and Lauren were before them, arms crossed giving them an "I see you" face.

Mercedes had to laugh and Sam followed. Soon enough, the four teenagers were laughing in a usually quiet house for apparently no reason.

"Well, well, well. What's this? I haven't seen a smile on that face in a long time." A warm voice poured over the laughter and the four recovered. Mrs. Evans walked in, wearing a flattering dress, black pumps, and her blonde locks were up in bun. They all stood quietly and she spoke again. "So, is someone going to introduce me?"

Artie and Lauren smirked. "We're going to…" Lauren began coming up with an excuse to leave to another room.

"Chop up the lettuce," Artie finished.

"Right." Lauren pushed her brother's wheelchair into the kitchen.

Sam shook his head at his traitor siblings and boldly grabbed Mercedes' hand. "This is Mercedes Jones, mom. The girl I was telling you about."

Mercedes' stomach sunk. Sam had spoken to his mother about her. She had a million questions at that point. What did he say to her? What does she think they are? Are they dating? She doesn't even know what they are. Is this a date? Should she curtsey? Of course not! They're not royalty. Mercedes bit the inside of her cheek and extended her hand. "It's so nice to finally meet you Mrs. Evans."

Mrs. Evans smiled politely at Mercedes and took her small hand into hers. "The pleasure is all mine, dear. I've heard so much about you. I hope you're hungry. I ordered Thai!"

Mercedes nodded. "I love Thai food."

Mrs. Evans smiled and took Mercedes' hand. "Well, maybe you can help me figure something out. I'm having trouble with this karaoke machine we got Artie. Sam tells me you're a singer."

"Mom, I said singer not a repair woman!" Sam said bitterly.

Mercedes chuckled and followed Mrs. Evans into the living room. "Psh, please Sam. You don't know what I've got!" She laughed and turned back to wink at Sam.

Mrs. Evans couldn't contain her joy and pulled out a state of the art Karaoke machine, still in its original box. "I have no idea how to put this together. Maybe after dinner, we can have a go at it? Lauren doesn't do electronics and I don't want Artie to do it since it's for him. You know? And Sam is too busy hitting those book! Right, sweetheart?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Right mom."

Mercedes' jaw dropped. Never in a million years would she be able to afford such an expensive piece of equipment. She ran her hands over the box. "This is incredible. Of course, I'll help."

Mrs. Evans gave Mercedes a squeeze around her shoulders, but her expression immediately changed when she heard the keys in the front door. "That must be your father, Sam. Go take his jacket and suitcase. I'll go set the table."

Sam rushed into the hallway and Mrs. Evans made her way into the dining room.

Mercedes noticed the abrupt change in the atmosphere and nervously fixed the trim on her dress. She stood up and followed Mrs. Evans into the dining room. "I can help."

"Nonsense, Mercedes. You're a guest. Please, make yourself comfortable."

Mercedes stared at the 12 seat cherry wood table. Why the heck would a family of 5 need so many chairs? She shook her head at her thoughts and took a seat at the table. She watched as Mrs. Evans scurried in her black pumps to get the table ready. Lauren and Artie came into the dining room. Artie was carrying a bowl of salad and Lauren was carrying a glass pitcher of wine in one hand and soda in the other. Mercedes helped Artie place the bowl onto the table. Lauren helped Artie on his chair and the two sat across from Mercedes.

"I'd like to apologize in advance." Lauren whispered.

Mercedes had a confused expression on her face.

"For our dad." Artie finished his sister's thought and placed his hands on his laps.

Mrs. Evans finished setting the table and placed 6 different their dishes across the table. She stood at one end of the table and waited.

"Dad, just don't bring it up at dinner, please." Mercedes overheard Sam talking to his father.

"Son, we're talking about it one way or another. I don't care if the president is sitting in there. Now, let's go. Your mother and your guest are waiting."

Mr. Evans walked into the room followed by a very angry looking Sam.

Mercedes stood up and Lauren smirked. "Don't do that." She whispered.

Mr. Evans heard the snarky comment from his teenage daughter and smiled at Mercedes. "It's nice to have someone with manners around here. You must be Mercedes." He walked over and extended his hand.

Mr. Evans looked like what she would imagine Sam would look like twenty years from now. He was tall, lean, handsome just like Sam. Mercedes extended her hand, making eye contact with Sam, reminding herself to ask him later if he was alright. "Yes, thank you so much for having me for dinner, Mr. Evans."

"Well, the pleasure is all mine. We had to meet the girl that was taking up so much of Sam's time."

Artie nearly choked on his glass of soda and Lauren glared at her father.

Mercedes felt immediately uncomfortable and took her seat once Mr. Evans took his. Sam sat next to her and took her hand under the table. He leaned in slightly and whispered softly. "I'm so sorry."

She bit her bottom lip, surprised with Sam's vulnerability and shrugged. "No big deal, Sammy."

Sammy. She had called him Sammy. Sam's heart fluttered and he eased up next to his friend.

The dishes were passed around the table in silence with a few "Mmmm"'s from Artie and chuckles from Lauren. Sam and Mercedes tried their best to remain composed while Mr. and Mrs. Evans had a staring contest from across the table.

Finally, Artie spoke up.

"So, Mercedes was nominated for Prom Queen." He brought his fork to his mouth. "And I think she's going to win."

Mercedes smiled, bowing her head shyly. Sam squeezed her hand—the same hand she had been holding the whole time, to keep him sane.

"So, you're running against Quinn Fabray?" Mrs. Evans asked.

"Yes, ma'am. I don't even know how it happened. One day I'm sitting in Glee club, singing with my friends and brother and the next, my face is on every wall at McKinley."

"Well, I think it's great. It's about time someone with substance ran for queen at McKinley. Isn't that right, Dwight?" Mrs. Evans looked at Mr. Evans. He cocked his head slightly, while attacking his food with a fork.

"I'm a bit biased, Mary. You know that." Mrs. Evans smiled at Mercedes. "Sorry, Mercedes, Mr. Fabray and I are good friends. So it's a little awkward talking to his daughter's competitor."

"It's just a stupid prom queen election. It's not like the world is being saved! Sheesh!" Lauren muttered.

Mercedes tucked in her lip, wanting so badly to speak up and agree with Lauren. Instead, she winked at Lauren.

"It's not just a stupid election, Lauren. It's about status. In the world, you're nothing without a name to put to yourself. It's something to write in your college essay, on your resume." Mr. Evans continued, almost as if this was part of a litany he has given before. "What do you think, Mercedes? I'm sure you agree with me. People like you and Sam and Quinn are part of a special world and should be recognized."

Mercedes knees were shaking. Was there really a problem with her saying something?

"Well, we're not really a part of the same world, sir. I was nominated. It was a surprise to me. I don't think status is all that important…with all due respect" Mercedes shoved a forkful of noodles in her mouth to keep herself from continuing.

"Well, for one, I'm glad, Mercedes. I hope you win. McKinley needs a change." Mrs. Evans interrupted.

The tension was almost too much to bear. The Evans clan and Mercedes continued eating.

"I'm sorry Mercedes, but I cannot agree with you. If you go for a job interview for instance, do you think the employer will hire the graduate from a community college or the graduate from an Ivy league?" Mr. Evans continued with his rant.

"Dad!" Sam gritted his teeth.

"It's a legitimate question." Mr. Evans took a sip of his wine. "Mercedes?"

"Well I believe in skill over education. Who cares what school you went to? What if the Ivy League student made a haphazard decision to attend a school merely for its title, but has no idea what they're doing whereas the community college student is making a steady climb towards their set career goal?"

Mr. Evans chuckled. "You're telling me a Harvard graduate wouldn't know what they're doing compared to a community college graduate?"

"Yes, sir I am. They don't teach you _everything _at those schools. What's the point of paying so much for school if you're going to graduate burnt out and with no social skills whatsoever!" Mercedes raised her voice slightly and sharpened it with her gaze.

All eyes were on Mr. Evans and Mercedes Jones. Artie tried to hide his amusement along with Lauren and Mrs. Evans watched in pure admiration of the spunky, teenager. Sam bit his bottom lip listening, thinking how Mercedes was saying all the things he wish he could.

"The point, Mercedes, is a job security and status. Like I said earlier."

"Okay, fine. Let's talk about status, sir. Let's say I win prom queen and I want to join the peace corps. Do you think they care that I have a plastic little tiara from Party City sitting on my dresser or that I ran my own campaign at the age of 6 to stop world hunger."

Sam shot her a lop-sided grin of pride.

"Well of course, the latter, Mercedes…" Mr. Evans started to speak when Mercedes interrupted again.

"Then, that works with education too. You talk about status but that doesn't exist anymore. This is the new world, sir. How fair is that for people who can't afford Ivy League schools and can't be one in ten who receive full rides? So, let's say I want to be president some day and I know everything there is about politics. I know all my platforms, I can change the world, yadda yadda yadda and so-on, but I graduated from Lima Community. How does that make me less eligible than the Yale graduate but only cares about one section of the country while the rest has to endure?"

Everyone looked over to Mr. Evans, waiting a retaliation.

"That's politics, Mercedes." Mr. Evans shrugged.

"Yeah, which is why this country is falling behind in its superior ranks as a superpower!" Mercedes raised her voice again. "Because people like yourself feel they can and should run it. Why? Because you have a fancy diploma and bank about 10 grand a month. That's not democracy, sir—it's a petty image complex and it's a problem."

"Oh my God, if you don't marry this girl, I will." Artie finally said. His sister and mother stifled their laughter. Sam looked at his father and shrugged. "I agree with her, Dad."

Mr. Evans put his fork down and looked at his son. "I'm sorry?"

"I agree with her. Years from now, no one is going to care what school I went to, the clothes I wore, whether or not I wore a letterman jacket. That will all be irrelevant."

"Sam, you can't say that when you already planned your future…"

" I planned my future around _YOU_, Dad!"

Mercedes felt the guilt of giving Sam balls and lowered her face into her hand. Mrs. Evans squeezed her arm and Mercedes looked up. She winked at her and smiled like an obviously proud parent.

"You planned your future around _me_? Is that right? Tell me how that makes sense."

"I'm tired of pretending to be something I'm not!."

"We're not talking about this now, Sam," Mr. Evans hypocritically declared, and then muttered, "Don't embarrass yourself around your girlfriend."

Mercedes eyes widened from the shock. "Oh I'm not…"

"More soda?" Artie interrupted.

Mercedes sat quietly and let Artie pour her glass, staring very intently as the bubbly liquid filled up her glass.

Meanhwhile Sam was looking like he liked the way that sounded. His girlfriend. He just wasn't ready to admit that to himself.

"You what? I like you Mercedes. You speak your mind and that's going to be very important in your future. I see you doing great things. Harvard would love you. I have a friend in admissions, I'll call them come Monday morning. They have a great music department too and I hear music's your forte. No pun intended."

Mercedes balked openly at the Evans' patriarch. She couldn't believe what was happening. Mr. Evans had just completely ignored her rant, his son's pleas, and turned it into let's save Mercedes night.

"That won't be necessary, sir." Mercedes said softly.

"Of course it is. You're very bright."

Mrs. Evans rolled her eyes at her husband's behavior. He didn't want to deal with his son so he found himself a new project.

"Oh hey! By the way!" Artie interjected again, attempting to redirect the attention. "Lauren is going to do the make-up for Lima state's rendition of _Beauty and the Beast_. Yeah, she's that good! She's the youngest make-up artist in Lima to get hired. Isn't that something?"

"Artie…" Lauren said in a low reprimanding tone.

"No sis. Dad should know. Oh and by the way, I got an A on my Calculus test. Did you know I took calculus?" he added with a humorless smile. "I'm a sophomore and I take Calculus! And I was put on full time at the school's radio station. I'm _that_ good!" Artie swallowed bitterly, adding to his tight smile.

Mercedes smiled appreciatively at Lauren and Artie. "That's really great you guys."

Mrs. Evans smiled proudly at her son while also looking astonished. "I didn't know…"

"Well, maybe if you guys laid off of Sam for a bit and paid attention to us, you would know all of that. Oh and Mercedes isn't some project, Dad. She _does_ have a bright future ahead of her—Ivy League school or not. She doesn't need you or anyone fixing her." Artie glared at his father. "Excuse me." He placed his napkin on the table and Lauren helped sit him in his wheelchair. She smiled at Mercedes and Sam. "Sorry guys."

With that, Lauren wheeled her brother and left the dining room.

Artie's words hit Sam hard, mostly because he agreed wholeheartedly. Mercedes didn't need anyone to fix her. She was perfect the way she was.

"Well, this has been an eventful night. Mercedes? I hope we didn't scare you away. I've got a big investment I'm working on so I'll have to excuse myself for now." Mr. Evans wiped his mouth and placed his napkin on the table. He abruptly walked out of the dining room and Mary Evans stood up.

"Don't worry about cleaning up, guys. Mercedes?" When Mercedes looked up at her, she smiled sweetly and added, "I hope you can join us again sometime."

Mercedes nodded her head in agreement while clamping down on her lips and watched Mary Evans follow Dwight Evans out of the room. The next few minutes were awkward, as she and Sam sat quietly at the table, listening to the yelling coming from the den. Mercedes was the one squeezing Sam's hand under the table this time. They didn't say anything to each other but it was understood that Sam needed her there. Sam moved his chair even closer to Mercedes and whispered. "Thank you."

**A/N: Geez! That was long! So tell us what you think about the Evans!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: WHADDUP?! BRI AND I ARE SUPER SORRY! WELL, MOSTLY ME FOR TAKING SO LONG TO UPDATE. YOU SEE, I TOOK A VACATION FROM THE DOUCHERY THAT IS GLEE! WENT ON AN ISLAND, HAD A FEW MARGARITAS, LET MY HAIR DOWN, AND NOW I'M BACK AND READY TO UPDATE LIKE WHOA. **

**WE STILL DON'T OWN GLEE. I TOOK MY HUSH MONEY FROM RYAN MURHPY TO GO TO THAT ISLAND. SO YEAH, STILL BROKE. **

"What's pizzity poppin' Titans? Bad case of the Mondays? Don't worry, Dr. Feelgood is here to turn things around—here are your morning announcements! The countdown to prom is T-minus 2weeks which means there's only 3 more weeks 'til us underclassmen say adios, aloha and arrivederci to the seniors! And then your prince of swag can take over the school! Haha! Next! Mr. Schuester wants to let all non-graduates know that next year's musical's gonna be…drumroll… _Grease_! It is the word! Also, the Glee club's heading off for their Nationals competition in a few weeks too. Yo, New Directions can I get a shout-out from New York when you win?...Wait…it's not filmed for T.V.?...Psh, scratch _that_! Just playin'—good luck y'all! Special loving to the lovely prom queen-to-be, Ms. Mercedes Jones! And I guess Quinn gets a shout out too**…** And speaking of prom queen, looks like the competition is heating up between Lady Jones and Firecracker Fabray…careful out there guys and dolls, don't let this thing turn the school into World War III now! Chord, Amber says she'll go with you to prom IF and only IF you watch Big Fish with her tonight. Seriously, I'm gonna need you two lovebirds to pay me a little more for these messages. Don't ya'll text, tweet, anything? And last, Coach Sylvester's putting everyone on notice now via email, and I quote 'If any of you paramecium come to school sick at any point next year, thereby compromising my workspace with your germs and putting my daughter at risk of illness, I vow there will be blood'….yikes! Keep the colds and flus at home, folks. Have a good one!"

Mercedes shook her head while smiling as she listened to Artie give the morning announcements on her way to her locker. Her dinner with the Evans the other week had been interesting to say the least, but it ended with the most satisfying hug and a kiss on her cheek and the top of her head from Sam. Puck teased her for the way she'd been strutting on Cloud 9 all day Monday, and throughout the entire week, she'd had lunch with Sam—sometimes with him, Santana, Finn, Mike, Tina and Brittany as well. She caught Sam shooting daggers out of his eyes at Finn on Friday when Finn draped an arm around her shoulders and asked her about helping him, Brittany and Santana with prom decorations next week.

"It'll be fun and we could always use some more help. Plus it'll give me more time than just lunch to tell you all the stories I know about your little boy toy over there and you'll get to spend time with your favorite campaign manager," Finn wiggled his eyebrows and tucked Mercedes' hair behind her ear. He winked at Sam and smile cockily.

When she followed the direction of his finger to Sam's outwardly fuming face, Mercedes looked up at Finn, "Uh…Look I'll help without being bribed with stories, okay?And…you're my ONLY campaign manager, Finn," She laughed nervously, moving slightly so that Sam could see she wasn't really feeling Finn's advances.

Finn casually shrugged, "Don't front. You know you can't deny that I'm your favorite person around here, and aaaalright but I'm tellin' you—you'll be missing out on some good ones. Like the Slip 'n Slide—"

"I swear if you don't shut your damn mouth, Finn!" growled Sam.

Mercedes' brows rose and her eyes bugged slightly, "Sam, calm down." She reached across the table, ignoring the dead weight of Finn's arm, and extended her hand to cover Sam's. "He's just teasing I'm sure, and I already told him…" her gaze went pointedly back to Finn, "I don't need the stories—just tell me what time I should meet up with you guys."

Finn slipped his arm from around her and smiled, "Right after school, in the gym. Britt managed to get some funky dinosaur thing that looks like it came from a roller coaster."

"I wanted to get the tracks too but Principal Figgins said no…" lamented Brittany with a frown. Everyone else stared at her, except for Santana who rubbed her back soothingly.

"Well…I bet we'll figure something to do with it," Mercedes said with a soft smile, pushing her glasses up her nose.

Brittany's gaze turned hopeful and lunch continued on with a more cheerful atmosphere.

Over the weekend, Sam, Mike, Finn and a few of their friends from the football team met up for a little 3-on-3 basketball game at Finn's house. Sam had been looking forward to whooping Finn's ass in the game, especially after the stupid stunts he'd pulled in front of Mercedes. Unfortunately, Finn's heckling hadn't lightened up with Mercedes' absence and his jokes had Sam seeing red. Sam overexerted himself throughout the game, costing him, Mike and their friend a win. Frustrated from the loss and Finn's heckling, Sam marched angrily to his gym bag for water and his face towel. Unfortunately Finn wasn't far behind, wearing a very proud grin.

"Damn dude, I hadn't seen you play that hard since…"

Despite telling himself that he wasn't going to answer, he turned and asked, "Since what?"

Finn casually shrugged, "Since Quinn told you she wasn't gonna put out for you." The taller male's smug smirk grew, "Maybe all that time with Mercedes is putting you back on that dry spell? Things can get kinda…I don't know…_hard _around someone so fine. I mean she's been lookin' cute and all these days but…putting out for _you_?"

That had done it, Sam snapped and charged right at Finn with his fists ready. "Dude, I swear to God!" he roared, raising his fist and striking Finn hard in the chest. Finn gasped hard, clutching his chest as he stumbled back but when he soon recovered and made to return the punch in Sam's face, Mike and one of their friends stepped in quickly and pulled the two apart.

"What the hell's with you guys?!" barked Mike, looking from one vehement friend to the other.

Sam gruffly shrugged him off and snatched up his duffle. He threw one hand to Finn and said, "Ask him!"

Finn jerked his arms free from their old teammate and said, "You're the dipshit who came at me, remember?"

"What's your problem, asshole!? You've been on my nuts for weeks!"

"It's been more than weeks, Evans," countered Finn with a venomous tone. "For _years_ I've watched you strut through the halls like you fucking own the place and it's bullshit! People are starting to see it as you keep hanging out with that stupid geek feminazi."

Sam stared at Finn, stunned and struggling to hide it.

"Yeah you don't know what people are saying, do you?" taunted Finn. He hissed a sigh, snatched up his water bottle and said, "You're going down, asshole. Now get the hell off my property."

With that, Finn turned and headed back towards his house with three of their teammates flanking him. Mike stood, still looking from Finn to Sam and back again. Sam huffed a short, livid sigh through his nose and turned to leave, shaking his head all the while. He didn't care that Mike seemed stuck in his place and he didn't care what people were saying about him at school. But he did care about protecting Mercedes—especially from Finn. There was a glint in his eyes—something menacing and he didn't know what plans lie behind them but he had to talk to Mercedes. Somehow, he had to find a way to tell her the truth about the bet and pray that she'd forgive him for ever agreeing to it.

After a quick shower at home and throwing on some fresh clothes, Sam drove over to the Jones residence. By now, he'd cooled off from his fight with Finn enough to keep a level head in front of Mercedes. He went up the path and after ringing the doorbell and running a set of long fingers through his hair, the front door swung open with Wade on the other side.

The young teen's eyes widened while a bright smile graced his lips, "Sam Ev—I mean, hello!"

Sam smiled crookedly, "Hey Wade. Is your sister here?"

Still bearing a fanatical smile, Wade nodded and opened the door wider to invite him in, "She's downstairs in her space."

"Her…space?" asked Sam with an arched brow.

"You'll see," Wade replied with a chipper, knowing smile and led Sam to a door that he hadn't noticed when he'd last come to the Jones home. There was nothing extraordinary about it, but when Wade opened it and gestured for him to proceed, Sam gave him a slightly skeptical look.

"She's down there," he explained with a nod. "Just watch your step on the staircase. Oh! Sam? Guess what? I entered the competition! I entered the sketches you helped me choose with Artie. Wish me luck!"

Sam smiled, genuinely proud of Wade and put two thumbs up. "Good Luck man."

Wade giggled and arched his eyebrows. "Just don't scare her. She gets wrapped up in her work" He whispered.

Sam nodded once back and though he was still leery, he went in and held a hand on the rail to guide himself quietly down the steps while listening to a smooth piano melody sounding from below. It reminded him of something he would hear on an old R&B track; his lips started to form Mercedes' name but he halted his speech and his steps when he saw her sitting at a brown baby grand piano, humming over the melody. He briefly glanced at the penciled music sheet sitting in front of her, but his eyes quickly gravitated to the back of her head again. He took a few more steps until he was on level ground with her—his eyes gazing adoringly at the aura she was exuding. She seemed so at peace and simultaneously vulnerable while seated there that he stepped forward without really watching where he was going and bumped into music stand.

Mercedes immediately stopped playing, gasped and whipped around. "Sam?" she questioned—her eyes fixing curiously at him. "What are you doing down here?"

Sam apparently, was not good at following directions. He cursed himself under his breath and waved nervously.

With the trance broken now, Sam bashfully stuck his hands inside his pockets and lowered his gaze to the floor, only to look back up at her. "You play piano?"

She barely smiled and turned to face the sheet music again. "My mom taught me when I was younger."

While he slowly approached, he listened to her go on and explain. "This was her piano. She loved music so much. She used to tell me that music's one of those few things in our lives that's universal. It's powerful, it can be good or bad, depending who's making it, and you can never have enough of it." He gaze went from the sheet music to the piano keys and as she gently stroked her fingers across the white keys she told him, "She always used to say, 'With the right amount of passion, people have made a difference in the world with music.' That's what I want to do." Her gaze then moved to look directly at Sam, "I want to make music that moves people. Inspires them to want to go for their dreams."

Sam took a seat on the small bench beside her, never taking his eyes off her, "So why don't you? What's stopping you?"

She let out a soft sigh, "If I do that, it'd mean leaving my dad and my brother here to fend for themselves. I know it sounds a little dramatic but I really am worried about them, if I were to go away for college. I know how hard it's been on them since my mom died. I don't want to make it worse by going to California or New York. It's hard enough as it is, just the three of us. At least with me around…I know my dad will take his meds and Wade will go to school."

The question that danced in the background of Sam's mind ever since his last visit returned. This time he braved a chance to lowly ask, "How…how did she die?"

"Cancer," she replied in a quiet but curt voice. "She got sick and couldn't get better…"

Though it made Sam's heart ache for him to hear all of this he asked, "Do you think she'd want you to stay here and put your dreams on hold?"

Mercedes sucked in a deep breath and as she sighed it back out she told him, "No, but I also think she wouldn't want my dad or Wade to have a harder time than they already are without her here. Besides…leaving Ohio isn't my dream."

He could hear some falseness to her last sentence but she soon added, "Making music is my dream and I can do that here. I've been doing that here. Plus this is affordable. There's nothing affordable about LA or NYC for me. _You_ on the other hand…"

"Whoa," he quickly raised his hands as if in surrender, "Since when were we talking about me?"

She smirked but it certainly came nowhere near her eyes. "Since right now. How come you haven't picked a school yet?"

Sam pursed his lips together, averting his gaze to the floor, "You _did_ meet my dad, right?"

"Uh, yeah. We met. What about him?"

"He wants me to go to an Ivy League school like him and my mom." He quickly deepened his voice, to make himself sound scarily close to the senior Mr. Evans. "'Y'know I had a lot of great memories at Dartmouth, Sam. You could too if you got accepted'….'Princeton's a fine school. Your mother went there and look at how successful she is! I'm sure she'd be glad to put you in touch with the dean—maybe get some letters of recommendation from old colleagues of hers.'"

Mercedes' eyes widened and she involuntarily flinched away from him—not because of what he was saying but _how_ he was mimicking his dad. "Okay I know he's your dad and all but…how the hell..?"

Sam chuckled dryly, "I've got a knack for impressions. I've got a pretty good one of Principal Figgins if you're ever interested in hearing it."

Mercedes chuckled and shook her head, "Impressions? That's pretty… later. So you don't wanna go to an Ivy League school because it's what your father wants?"

He shrugged, "Not just that. I mean…it's like what you said at dinner last week—Dartmouth and Princeton are just titles that sound nice on paper but I could still get a really good education if I went to a community college, or a vocational school if that's what I wanted. It doesn't matter to me but it matters to him. He'd act like I spat on his diploma if I went to LCC* or even UCLA, which I hear is actually a great school."

"It is. I applied there too."

He couldn't stop the smile that appeared on his lips, "You did?"

"Mhm and I got in but it doesn't matter. I also got into Ohio State."

His lips fell back into a slight grimace, "Oh…"

Mercedes tucked some hair behind her ear with her glasses frame and then asked, "So when do you think you'll start doing what you want to do and not get baited by what others want you to do?"

"I…" Again, a tight feeling constricted his chest. It seemed as if she was giving him just the opening he'd need to own up to the bet. But the way her big brown eyes were staring at him, and the way she kept tucking her lips in her mouth to lick them also had him slowly drawing closer to her. He was completely enamored by her wit, intelligence, talent and beauty, yet the terror of hurting her with the truth was acting like a thin string, tugging annoyingly at the middle of his back, telling him to retreat from his growing closeness.

"Sam?" she quietly murmured, stopping him for the moment. He looked up in her eyes again and saw the curiosity and concern in them. "You don't have to tell me the answer right now if you don't want to but… I did want to ask you about prom…"

He froze, mid-lean; suddenly the thin string started to thicken into a cable, and then another cable joined. The courage he once had to tell her the truth morphed into the size of a grape at the mention of prom. It was only a week away now which meant if he wasn't going to tell her now, he wasn't going to have much time after. But the panic that struck him in that moment had him rising from the bench. "Umm…"

She stared at him, looking instantly hurt but trying to hide it, "Are you okay?"

"I um…I have to go—I just remembered this thing I'm supposed to do with Artie and my mom…."

Her brows rose, "Now?"

He bit the inside of his cheek, frantically racking his brain for something to say. "Can I call you later?"

"Um…sure, I guess," she replied, justifiably confused by his abrupt need to leave.

Sam shuffled to the stairs and high-tailed it up to the house's first story. He gave Wade a quick, "See ya," and didn't stop until he was inside his truck.

For the rest of Saturday and most of Sunday, Sam kept turning over in his mind, how he was going to apologize to Mercedes for his rude departure, and also confess about the bet. He hadn't called her like he said—plainly out of fear that he'd look like a coward, unable to tell her the truth to her face which had been incredibly true.

When Monday rolled around, he went to find her in the morning but she hadn't met up with him, Mike and Tina at their usual spot. At lunch he didn't see her around the cafeteria and by the time the school day ended, he'd grown antsy and fussed aloud, "Was she not here today or something?"

Mike leaned away from him on their way to the parking lot, "Who?"

"Mercedes!" Sam spat back, wringing his hands.

His best friend's brows furrowed, "Calm down dude. That's why you've been acting like you drank 10 Red Bulls today? She's been in the gym in between classes with Brittany and the others, decorating for prom. It's this Saturday, remember?"

Of course he hadn't forgotten that prom was Saturday but he did forget that Finn had invited her to help them decorate. He peeled away from Mike's side and said, "Catch you later," before half jogging back towards the school. His grip on his backpack was tight as he tried not to look like he was on deadline to find and talk to Mercedes. When he whooshed right through the gymnasium doors, music was playing to keep all of the decorating committee busy. Santana and Brittany were up on ladders, pinning dinosaur cut-outs and palm trees to the walls. Quinn was lingering near a drooling Jacob Ben Israel, tricking him into doing all the grunt work while she checked her face in a hand mirror. Some of their other classmates were painting paper machete dinosaur eggs, but his eyes fixed on Finn and Mercedes who were hovering over a roller coaster cart with a dinosaur head and tail attached to either end. Relief washed over him until he saw Finn poke her nose, causing the both of them to smile and giggle. Before he could check his temper, Sam strode right up to them.

"What the hell is this?" he asked possessively.

Mercedes' features crossed between confusion and upset when she met his stern gaze. Finn on the other hand, looked like he was having the time of his life.

"We're working on stuff for the prom. What's your problem?" she asked coldly.

He flinched but quickly recovered, "I just…I've been looking all over to talk to you about prom and stuff."

"If you're trying to ask her out as your date," interrupted Finn. "You're too late, bro."

"I wasn't coming to ask her out, _bro_," he mocked but quickly caught up with the meaning behind Finn's words. He cut Mercedes a stunned look, "Wait you're going to prom with _him_?!"

Instantly, he could tell he hadn't chosen his words carefully but not enough of him cared, despite the narrowing of Mercedes eyes, "Yeah? I am. He asked me. Is there a problem, Sam?"

"Well—…" sputtered Sam. He ignored the smug look on Finn's face and lowered his voice to Mercedes, "I thought we were gonna go together."

She opened her mouth to answer but again, Finn chimed in. "Dude seriously this bet's getting old. Mercedes is a great girl and you shouldn't string her along just 'cause you can't turn down bets. Frankly, I'm just tired of hearing about the whole thing and I'm not gonna let you string her along like she's some puppet, _bro._"

Sam's entire frame went rigid. Not once but twice did Finn emphasize their bet; the weasel also managed to leave himself out of said bet but before he could take to strangling his former best friend, he caught Mercedes' gaze growing murderous by the second. It was impossible for Sam not to look at her now and for the first time since getting to know her, he felt himself shrinking—like a small child looking up at his pissed off parent.

"A bet?" she asked through gritted teeth.

Sam opened his mouth but no words came out. Ever helpful, Finn jumped in with a dry chuckle, "Yeah it was so dumb, 'Cedes. He bet that he could get any girl at the school to become prom queen and decided you were the one he'd make that happen for. So he got a bunch of peeps together, gave you a makeover, made fake googly eyes at you and pretended to be nice. Pffft…Talk about asshole right?"

As much as he wanted to clock Finn, or at least out him for his part in the bet, he knew none of it would make a difference because he was right—he agreed to the bet, he agreed to Mercedes being the one he could turn to prom queen. He was the one who didn't mean to fall for her, but did. He was the one who was watching her raise the high walls around her heart now while simultaneously firing daggers out of her eyes, all aimed right at him.

"It's true, isn't it?" she asked. "I'm a bet?"

Too ashamed to answer, Sam tucked his lips in his mouth while he stared down at her.

"AM I A FUCKING BET, SAM EVANS?!" she yelled, causing the whole room to fall silent, save the quiet, ironic playing of Beyoncé and Shakira's "Beautiful Liar" from the small iHome in the corner of the room.

The pressure from the silence bore down on him, forcing the answer to barely breathe out of his mouth. "Yes." He kept his eyes on hers, watching her rage be extinguished by unmistakable hurt. It was the second time he'd seen her look this hurt before—the first being at Santana's party when Quinn told her off. And with impeccable timing, Quinn appeared over his shoulder but he hadn't noticed her until she spoke up.

"It's like I told you before. You don't belong in this world. You should've listened the first time. Once a commoner, always a commoner…"

Sam wanted nothing more than to thrust an elbow directly back but he restrained himself—even after Quinn whined, "Aww…are you gonna cry again?" to Mercedes.

He watched Mercedes pull her defenses together again and slowly back away from him, Quinn and Finn until she was clear to turn and leave without a backward glance. Finn glared at Sam and shook his head. He wanted everyone to see that he was going to be the hero this time.

"Nice job. See you at prom…_bro." _Finn started jogging out of the gym and cried out to Mercedes. "Sweetheart! Wait!"

Sam stood frozen as Quinn placed her head on his shoulder. "Poor unfortunate soul." She fake pouted and looked up at Sam. "So, pick me up at 7?"

Sam looked down at Quinn and moved his shoulder. "Fat chance."

He strode angrily out of the gym, taking down some decorations with him.

**A/N: EH EH? WORTH THE WAIT, I HOPE! LOL SO HIT US UP WITH THOSE REVIEWS, YOU KNOW HOW MUCH WE ENJOY THEM! **


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